


Three's A Crowd

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chatlogs, Comedy, Dating, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, OT3, Polyamory, Romance, Romantic Comedy, These Boys are a MESS, a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: Iwaizumi loves Oikawa.Oikawa loves Iwaizumi.Neither of them will say anything.Then, suddenly, Ushijima is there. And things get very complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are a MESS

Iwaizumi likes to think that he has established a fairly solid routine in his life by his senior year of high school. He has cultivated a group of friends and a strong team. He has kept his grades high and is always on top of his training.

His days follow the same kind of rhythm. Wake up, walk to school with Oikawa, attend class, lunch with the gang, more class, after school practice, walk home with Oikawa, homework, hang out, sleep. It’s a setup that has kept him sane and strong for the past eight years of his life and he assumes it will carry him through the last four weeks of his high school career with little difficulty.

And so, when he opens the door too early on a Saturday morning and finds Ushijima Wakatoshi standing in front of him, he is nothing but shocked.

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Ushijima greets with a simple nod, “I am in need of your aid. May I come in?”

Iwaizumi is incapable of language at this point. Mind reeling, but his body works without his knowledge, stepping to the side to make room for the spiker in his vestibule. Ushijima enters without a word, slipping off his shoes and setting them down neatly beside Iwaizumi’s own.

Iwaizumi is still replaying the past ten seconds of his life within the confines of his erratic mind. Why is Ushijima at his house? Why does Ushijima need help? Is this a joke? Does Ushijima even know what a joke is? Is this about Oikawa?

Ushijima Wakatoshi knows _my name?_

The last thought surprises him, and he feels his neck heat up at how he seems to latch on to it. Because it’s silly. Why _wouldn’t_ Ushijima Wakatoshi know his name, after all the years they’ve faced off against each other?

But, he supposes, it’s the first time he’s ever heard Ushijima say it himself. In fact, every interaction he’d ever had with the teen had been surrounding Oikawa, the tension and focus in the air so thick around the two that Iwaizumi had always felt suffocated in the shadows created by their coming together; two incredibly bright lights of talent, swirling around one another and giving off sparks. No match for Iwaizumi.

“Where should I go?” Ushijima asks, voice deep and startling, bringing Iwaizumi back to the present. He stares at him, mouth parting to speak. He blinks, takes another second before glancing up the steps.

“My room.” He finally says, hesitance lacing every syllable. But then he starts to move, forcing his legs to cooperate up the steps because, he realizes, Ushijima has no idea where his room even is.

The pair make their way silently up the staircase, down the narrow hallway and into Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Iwaizumi closes his door behind him and Ushijima speaks once more, “May I sit?” He asks, tilting his head slightly toward the bed. Iwaizumi gives a nod, watching as Ushijima sits neatly on the edge of his bed, smoothing down his pant legs as he does so.

Iwaizumi slips into his desk chair, spinning it to face his visitor.

“I am assuming you are surprised to find me here.” Ushijima begins after a beat of silence, hands on his knees and staring firmly into Iwaizumi’s eyes. His eyes are smoldering, intense, and it’s too early and confusing for Iwaizumi to keep the gaze for long. He’s not used to such prolonged eye contact--Oikawa is always distracted, his eyes catching on the glint of everything around him.

“What’s going on?” Iwaizumi finally breathes, frowning. Because he’s starting to remember he doesn’t _like_ Ushijima, and he’s starting to wonder what Oikawa will think when he finds out he let his arch rival into his home so easily.

“We are graduating in one month.” Ushijima states. Iwaizumi nods, following him so far, and waits for the man to continue, “And, I have realized, that these next four weeks may be my last chance to...further my relationship with Oikawa Tooru.”

“...Further your relationship...?” Iwaizumi repeats, squinting as he works the words in his mouth, trying to understand them.

Ushijima slips a hand into his messenger bag, but pauses quickly, “First, I should ask.” He stops, taking his hands away from the bag empty, looking back over to Iwaizumi with his unflinching gaze, “You are very close to Oikawa?”

“Uh, yes...?” Iwaizumi answers, awkwardly, but grows a bit more firmer, “Yes. We are.”

“But are you in a romantic relationship?” Ushijima adds, and there’s something different in his eyes that Iwaizumi can’t read. As if the teen has closed them off in preparation, from whatever the answer might be.

Iwaizumi is taken aback by the question, stomach flipping because it is a thought that has been at the forefront of his mind for months now. Because the idea of going to different universities in the fall has made him hyperaware of Oikawa, of drinking him in as much as possible in the time they have left. Of noticing all the things he likes, he hates, he _loves_. And the thoughts have been getting unbearable, in the ways they flutter his stomach, and accelerate his heart at the worst of times. But he hasn’t said anything. Hasn’t done anything.

So he answers, “No. We’re just friends.”

Ushijima nods, and Iwaizumi wonders if it’s a trick of the light, or if those broad shoulders seem to relax just a millimeter. “I see.” Ushijima says, nodding once. “Then, I hope, you will help me in this endeavor.”

“Help you...?” Iwaizumi repeats, his brow furrowing. But Ushijima has turned away, digging his hands through his messenger bag to reveal a crisp red envelope. He holds it in both his hands a moment, before offering to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi feels his face flush without his consent, the scene incredibly familiar from all the times Oikawa had been given a confession letter from a girl and the occasional boy at their school. He swallows, taking the letter, heart hammering, because _he’d_ never gotten one, and this was all way too fast.

He opens the letter as Ushijma says, “Will you help me?”

The letter reads,

_Dear Oikawa,_

_I wish to further our relationship and make it more romantic in nature. It would be appreciated if you were to respond before graduation._

_\--Ushijima Wakatoshi_

It’s for Oikawa. Because they’re _always_ for Oikawa, and Iwaizumi feels a little silly for thinking it would be for him, after Ushijima had even said all this was for Oikawa.

Still, the fact that Ushijima has a crush on Oikawa, or is capable of having a crush at all, makes his mouth gape.

Ushijima is silent, watching him intently. _Waiting_ , Iwaizumi realizes, as he looks up.

“Help?” Iwaizumi says again, glancing back down at the letter.

“Yes.” Ushijima responds, “Will you help me acquire Oikawa’s heart?”

Iwaizumi looks back down at the letter.

It’s awful. One of the worst confession letters he’s ever read, and he’d read hundreds over the years (all addressed to Oikawa). And yet, there is something about the words, the tone, the voice, that, coming from Ushijima, seem almost endearing. Like the spiker had poured himself out trying to craft the absolute best confession he could manage.

He’s not sure if it’s pity, or mutual understanding, or the warmth in his heart that’s trickling into him, but something or another makes Iwaizumi say, “Ok.”

* * *

Iwaizumi pulls out his kotatsu table from his closet, leaving the blanket where it’s folded but grabbing two cushions. He hands one to Ushijima before leaving him to make some tea.

When he returns about ten minutes later he finds Ushijima sitting on one of the cushions, one elbow resting on the table, holding his head up, and the other swiping through his phone. It’s an incredibly casual pose, one he’s never seen on the other--but he realizes it’s crazy of him to think that Ushijima holds himself like a robot at every constant moment of his life.

Still, his grip on his tea tray tightens involuntarily. He uses his foot to close the door behind him, kneeling across from his guest and placing the tray on the table. He sets the steaming tea in front of both of them. Ushijima puts his phone down, taking his cup, “Thank you.”

Iwaizumi blinks, because he isn’t used to formal gratitudes. He’s used to familiarity, to thank you’s communicated through nudges to the side, through small grins and bright brown eyes, through hugs, and cheek pinches, through everything _but_ words.

“Oh, uh, yeah. No problem.” He stammers, sitting down more comfortably. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, or on edge, but he guesses it’s understandable. He’s a creature of routine and this is very much outside anything he’s ever dealt with before.

“What is the plan of action?” Ushijima asks, simply, waiting.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure how to respond, and realizes he needs to calm down. Ushijima is literally the same age as him. Iwaizumi is sitting on his own turf, his home, his bedroom. He should be confident. He should be in control. He takes a deep breath and steels himself.

“You’re serious about this? About...About wanting to date Oikawa?” He asks, and the latter question stings, he can’t deny, but he swallows it down for now.

“Yes.” Ushijima nods, firm.

“Well, I need to know how seriously you want this.” Iwaizumi continues, growing more sure of himself, “Oikawa’s my best friend, and I’m not going to help just anyone try to woo him.”

Ushijima nods again, “I understand. You care about him.”

Iwaizumi feels his ears burn, “Yes. Yes, I uh, do. But, _why_ do you want to date him?”

Ushijima looks like he’s prepared for the question, straightening his back up. Almost as if he’d been waiting for the prompt, having practiced in a mirror for hours and hours, “I have always been interested in Oikawa Tooru, ever since I first had the chance to make his acquaintance in middle school. He is always in my thoughts, and at first I believed it to be because of our mutual rivalry. There is something about his play style as an opponent that fuels me onwards. But, as of late, I have realized these feelings of mine seem more complicated than that. There are other things I find pleasing about Oikawa. His face, the fire in his eyes. The thought of graduation seems to have accelerated this realization. And I feel as though, with the end so near, I should at least make an attempt at communicating this to him, before it is too late.” He finishes, but then decides to add, with almost a hint of hesitancy, “Do you understand?”

Iwaizumi’s throat feels dry, hearing the same feelings and experiences and thoughts, almost word for word spill out of his rival’s mouth. Something tugs at his heart and he decides to call it empathy. He takes another deep breath, “I understand.”

“So you will help me?” Ushijima continues, eyes glimmering a shade brighter.

It kills him. “Yeah.” Iwaizumi swallows, looking away, “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you very much, Iwaizumi.” Ushijima says, and Iwaizumi feels his heart jump when Ushijima says his name _again_. Twice in one day. Blowing records out of the water, “Then you will deliver the letter to him?”

Iwaizumi blinks, looking back at the letter on the table, “No.”

“No?” Ushijima repeats, his deep voice rising, if only slightly, into the realm of disbelief.

“The letter is shit.” Iwaizumi blurts out, without really thinking. He’d been taking a lot of effort to craft his sentences until this point and it had been tiring. He’s used to just speaking his mind, no filter, no pleasantries--at least when it came to most people.

Ushijima frowns, taking the letter back, “How so?”

Iwaizumi leans forward, over the table, taking one edge of the letter so they can both look at it. Their shoulders brush, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how warm Ushijima is. But he focuses himself back on the task at hand.

“Your voice is all wrong. This reads like a manual, not a confession.” Iwaizumi points out, “Also, you don’t say why you like him in this at all. Why should he think you’re being serious?”

“I see.” Ushijima says seriously, squinting his eyes at his own writing, “I should make it more personal?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Iwaizumi nods. “But, I also think, it may be too soon for...for any of this.” He adds, and part of him believes it, but the other part wonders if it’s him being selfish. Prolonging the inevitable.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you.” Iwaizumi begins, “Oikawa, as of right now, hates your guts. Or at least, that’s what he says to me. So you might want to get him to stop hating you first, before you throw a confession his way. He’s going to think its a joke.”

Ushijima looks back at his letter, “There are only four weeks left.” He reminds, and Iwaizumi swears the sentence edges with a thin layer of desperation he’s unused to hearing from the man who wins _everything_.

“We’ll figure it out.” Iwaizumi decides, for Ushijima, but for himself too.

* * *

Spending the evening at Oikawa’s place is nothing new. In fact it is a given. Iwaizumi likes to think he’s spent half his life within the walls of the Oikawa home. He knows every nook and cranny, has run his fingers along every grain, has seen every chip and crack.

Iwaizumi prides himself on being the resident expert of Oikawa Tooru, and his knowledge is not reserved for just the boy, but everything that surrounds his life.

But tonight is different than any other night. Because Iwaizumi isn’t here to just hang out and spend time with his best friend, his first friend, his first _love_ , perhaps. He’s here on reconnaissance, for another man.

There’s something thrilling about it. About knowing more than Oikawa, about having to be more observant, ahead of him, for once in his life. And the masochistic feeling of helping someone he’s supposed to dislike, a rival in every sense of the word, adds another level of excitement that courses through Iwaizumi’s veins. Iwaizumi doesn’t know why he does it, why he agrees to it, but something in Ushijima’s eyes, in his demeanor, in the way Iwaizumi felt his own heart beat faster, makes him follow through.

Still, Iwaizumi has very little tact, and realizes this when he can’t help but blurt out in the middle of their Mario Kart game, “What do you think of Ushijiwaka?”

Oikawa almost crashes his car.

Well, not almost, he does, slamming it into the side of the wall with a sudden shriek. He focuses on getting his car back onto the track, leaving the question hanging space between them. A premature ghost, haunting the the air above them.

Iwaizumi’s control of his own car becomes sloppy, sweaty fingers having trouble with the controller suddenly and his eyes keep jerking from the screen to look at his best friend.

Oikawa looks red, and he’s glaring at the screen.

Is he blushing? Or is he just angry?

Iwaizumi wishes he was better at this.

The race ends in a few seconds, neither of them come in first.

“What kind of question even is that?” Oikawa snaps, “Why would you speak of he-who-shall-not-be-named?”

“I’m not talking about Voldemort.” Iwaizumi sighs, putting his controller down.

“Why are you asking this anyway?” Oikawa continues, undeterred, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Is it?” Iwaizumi questions, glancing at him from the side. He bites his lip.

Oikawa stares at him, “I hate Ushiwaka-chan with every fiber of my being.”

A part of Iwaizumi thinks he could have just stopped there. Reported these findings back to Ushijima, _sorry, tough luck, he hates you, nothing I can do about it._ But he doesn’t. Because Iwaizumi isn’t one to half ass things.

“Do you?” Iwaizumi probes, frowning, picking at the carpet beneath his legs.

Oikawa’s mouth parts in disbelief, “Don’t _you_?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, suddenly feeling hot under the collar. This isn’t about _him_ , it’s about Oikawa. Stay focused.

“He’s a jerk, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa snaps, incredulously, “A brute! He ruins all our fun!”

“Funny, those are all things you’ve said about me.” Iwaizumi comments, and maybe there’s a touch of self-loathing in his statement. He needs to backpedal on that. _This isn’t about me_ , he repeats, again, in his head.

Oikawa blinks at him, face reddening even more, “Iwa-chan! I don’t hate _you_.”

Iwaizumi swallows, keeping his eyes low. This can’t be about him. He needs to steer away. His heart is hammering in his chest. His fist tugging at the carpet fiercely.

“So why do you hate Ushiwaka?” He ask, firmly. Stay on track.

“Because! Because!” Oikawa groans, looking away, “He’s such a know it all. He thinks he’s better than everyone around him. And he’ll rub that success in your face. What an ass! Like he’s on some other level, far beyond ever needing any help or whatever. I just want to kick him.”

 _You’re wrong,_ Iwaizumi thinks, suddenly, _You’re wrong, Oikawa. He does ask for help when he needs it_.

Oikawa whips his head back around, “What do you mean I’m wrong?”

Iwaizumi realizes, in horror, that he’s let slip the first part of his thought through his traitorous lips.

“I mean. He’s just...” Iwaizumi stammers, blush creeping up his neck without his permission, “I don’t know. He’s just another player on the court, just like us.”

Oikawa squeezes his eyebrows together, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind Iwaizumi’s words. But Iwaizumi keeps himself closed off, locked tight, and even Oikawa can’t break through in that moment.

He pouts, “What’s all this about, Iwa-chan?”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi mutters, looking away, “Graduation’s coming.” He reminds, stomach churning, hands fisting at his side, “And maybe it’s best to give people a chance.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything, turning back to the TV screen, selecting another course. Iwaizumi swallows, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Maybe he’s said too much. He can feel Oikawa’s gaze on him, as if the other boy keeps glancing at him suspiciously. It burns his shoulders just thinking about it and he feels so flustered. But he refuses to look at Oikawa.

The rest of the evening is awkward, stilted. Oikawa is incredibly pensive, distracted. And Iwaizumi is hyper aware of Oikawa’s tight pajamas, the one’s he’s had for years and has long outgrown. When they slip into the bed together, Iwaizumi rolls so his back is facing his companion, to be safe.

But after a few moments of darkness, Oikawa speaks up, “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi lets out a grunt as an answer.

“...Are you...Are you mad at me?” Oikawa asks, quietly, carefully.

Iwaizumi turns over, immediately, unconditionally, “Of course not.”

Oikawa blinks at him, eyes watery in the dim light. Iwaizumi stares into them, and he feels like he’s about to drown. He wants to kiss him. He wants to wrap his arms around him. He squeezes the pillow under his head with his hand.

“Ushijiwaka-chan is ok, I guess.” Oikawa allows, glancing to the side, a tinge of red dusting his cheeks, bright enough to be visible in the dim light.

Iwaizumi feels cold.

“But you’re my best friend ok, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa adds quickly, looking back at him, “You can’t leave my side so easily.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart stop in his chest. Because Oikawa will only ever see him as a friend. But his views of Ushijima are already so easily elevated, a hint of inner desire, warm as the color pressing to his face. Something coils in Iwaizumi’s stomach, and he feels nauseous.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa breathes aloud again, when Iwaizumi remains quiet.

“Like I’d leave you that easily anyway.” Iwaizumi huffs, turning around again, pressing his face into his pillow just in case. Oikawa giggles, seemingly appeased by his words, the tension in his body relaxing.

Iwaizumi stays up, replaying the conversation in his head, trying to swallow down his own emotions, his own misery. Because he loves Oikawa, and he wants him to be happy, and he’ll do anything to make that happen.

Even if it means stepping back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my new multific
> 
> aka how i keep sane while working my first real job :0
> 
> i swear the next chapter is going to be hilarious


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa Tooru feels he’s been left utterly behind, with broken legs, in a sudden downpour.

It’s a beautiful day in the park to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon. Spring is beginning to bloom and the air is crisp with promise. The fountain sprays water high into the air, sparkling in the sun’s light, before pooling in it’s freshly cleaned basin. Children run their hands along the water’s edge, giggling and shivering at the coolness tinging their fingertips. Iwaizumi watches them with a soft smile from his spot at a neighboring bench.

It takes him a moment to realize the glare of the sun no longer hits him. He looks up to find Ushijima Wakatoshi standing before him. His expression...different. Surprised is not the right word. Ushijima looks caught off guard, a glint in his eyes and a furrow in his brow. His mouth is parted slightly, as if something about the scene in font of him is unexpected but not unwanted.

Iwaizumi doesn’t linger on it, eyes slipping down Ushijima’s face to take in his form. The taller teen is dressed in a pair of dark casual jeans, a simple slim t-shirt that tugs on his broad shoulders and dark jacket. It takes concentrated effort for Iwaizumi to detach his eyes and return them to Ushijima’s face. He admonishes himself, _don’t be weird._

“Hey.” He greets, awkwardly.

Ushijima blinks his eyes, as if awoken from so sort of distant thought and nods at him, “Thank you, again, for meeting me here.” He manages, “What is it that you found out?”

Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck, “I think you have a chance.” Ushijima’s facial expression does not change, but his eyes seem brighter, his whole body more aware. It’s an incredibly subtle change, and yet Iwaizumi seems to catch it. He tries not to think about that.“I thought, I’d...I’d spend the afternoon showing you different spots Oikawa likes and then, maybe, you could take him around and stuff. You know, like practice.”

“Practice.” Ushijima repeats, the word familiar.

“I’m assuming you’ve never dated anyone before, right?” Iwaizumi interjects, perhaps a bit too bluntly.

Ushijima takes no offense at his words regardless, shaking his head, “I have not. Have you?”

“Well, no, but I’ve tagged along enough with Oikawa, and heard enough of his stories to know the general idea.” Iwaizumi replies with a shrug. Ushijima nods again, ready for him to take the lead. It’s weird, how easily he accepts his inferior knowledge. How easily he allows Iwaizumi to step up and assume control. How little it damages his own pride.

Iwaizumi is impressed by it, wishes he was better at it. Who knew Ushijima Wakatoshi could let his pride slide when he was off the court.

“Where will you take me first?” Ushijima asks, breaking Iwaizumi’s train of thought.

“Oh, uh, right.” Iwaizumi stammers, tearing his eyes away from Ushijima’s to glance around the park. Little kids run past them, chasing each other with sticks and the like. Mothers chat together under the shade of a tree while keeping a watchful eye. Iwaizumi can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips, and he’s vaguely aware of Ushijima’s piercing gaze on his face, “Oikawa and I used to come here all the time when we were little.”

“You have known each other that long?” Ushijima breathes, surprise creeping at the edges of his monotone.

Iwaizumi lets out a light laugh, “I know right? Crazy how I haven’t killed him yet.”

“Your self-control is admirable, Iwaizumi.” Ushijima nods, and is that a lilt of playfulness at the edge of his sentence?

Iwaizumi feels his throat go dry. Is _Ushijima Wakatoshi_ complementing him? Or worse, is he playfully teasing him?

 _He said my name again_.

Iwaizumi needs to get a hold of himself. He focuses on keeping his embarrassed flush down as it tries to creep its way up his neck. He takes a breath, “Yeah.” He responds, trying to sound airy and nonchalant, but it comes out forced, “Uhh, anyway, our-- _his_ favorite spot was the grand oak tree near the west edge of the park.”

They walk in silence, neither of them talkers in their own right, and Iwaizumi is surprised by how easy it is. There is no pressure to converse, to fill the air with chatter. They simply walk, arms brushing against one another on occasion, until finally they reach the tree.

“Oikawa used to love climbing this tree.” Iwaizumi says, patting the bark with a certain hint of affection, “He always said it was to get him closer to space.”

“And you would climb it too?” Ushijima prompts.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “I’m not much a fan of heights.” He confesses, eyes still caught tracing the edges of the bark, seeing the remnants of sturdy footholds for adventurous hands and feet. He’d always been fine watching Oikawa scale to the top from his safe place at the bottom. It was enough just to see Oikawa soar, high above and shine his smile down at him.

He almost misses Ushijima’s response, lost in the memory, “Ah, then your short stature must be a blessing.”

Iwaizumi turns to him, surprised, “Fuck off.” He blurts out, more out of habit than with any actual animosity. He’d spent the past three years surrounded by giants named Oikawa, Hanamaki and Matuskawa. Short jokes were just his life.

Ushijima, however, doesn’t know this. He quickly bows his head, “I apologize. I did not mean to hurt your feelings.”

Iwaizumi is taken aback, hands coming up to wave the taller man off quickly, “It’s fine. I’m uh, used to it. Sorry I uh, cursed at you.” Because he’s not good with sincere apologies, especially ones so frank and honest.

Ushijima nods, accepting the response, “For the sake of clarity, would it be possible for you to list the subjects which I should not broach so as not to offend you again in the future?”

Iwaizumi can’t help but snort at the longwinded request. Again, coming from Ushijima, with his stoic face and serious eyes, he finds it almost endearing. He can’t help patting Ushijima’s back good naturedly, “How about I just tell you when they happen and we take it from there?”

Ushijima seems more focused on the sudden contact, gaze directed at Iwaizumi’s hand. But he nods after a moment all the same.

Iwaizumi smiles, shaking his head slightly. _What a weird guy_.

“Here, let me take you to Oikawa’s favorite cafe.”

* * *

**> Oikawa Tooru has started a group chat with Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro<**

**> Oikawa Tooru:** EMERGENCY MEETING

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** u forgot to add Iwaizumi

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** ill add him

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** NO

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** NOO

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** DO NOT

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** ?

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** THIS MEETING IS ABOUT HIM

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **Oh snap

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **Trouble in paradise?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **CODE RED

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** spill

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **IWA-CHAN AND USHIWAKA-CHAN ARE ON A DATE

 ** _>_ Matsukawa Issei:** Holy Shit

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **I call bullshit.

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I’ll prove it!!! Meet me in front of Cafe Roi ASAP

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** omw

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** same

**> Oikawa Tooru has changed the group chat name to: IWA-CHAN DEFENSE SQUAD<**

* * *

Oikawa puts his phone away, looking back into the cafe with a sense of urgency. He cups his face against the glass with his hands, trying to ward off the sun’s glare. It’s unnecessary though; the sight before him is crystal clear regardless.

Iwaizumi and Ushijima, together, standing in line for whatever drink they’re planning to order. Talking. Chatting. _Smiling_.

Something burns in Oikawa’s chest, and he longs to look away, but he _can’t_.

Iwaizumi points at the menu, talking--maybe explaining? Ushijima is nodding, speaking up on occasion, and Iwaizumi lets out a short _laugh,_ his shoulders hunching over, eyes squeezing shut and grin overtaking his face _._

Oikawa grits his teeth.

This is unacceptable.

A part of him wants to burst into the cafe, storm in, hook his arm around Iwaizumi’s waist and save him. Give Ushijima a string of choice words, order a milkbread and depart with the cafe cheering him on for his great heroic act.

But his feet remain rooted to the sidewalk, last night’s conversation replaying in his mind for the thousandth time.

 _You’re wrong_.

_Maybe it’s best to give people a chance._

He needs a second opinion. And a third. He needs backup. This is well beyond anything he’s ever expected to come across and he is completely outside his realm of comfortability. 

Oikawa Tooru has always enjoyed the unexpected. Whether it be a clever setter dump that catches the opposing team off guard, a sudden complement that stops a person in their tracks, or coming up with evening plans on the spot, Oikawa Tooru is a master of meddling with the lives of the people he loves most.

But Oikawa Tooru enjoys the unexpected he has full control over. The kind he has cleverly manipulated, orchestrated with careful ministrations and exercized his power of foresight. Always three steps ahead.

Suddenly, as he stands outside his favorite cafe, Oikawa Tooru feels he’s been left utterly behind.

Iwaizumi tugs Ushijima’s wrist to bring the man down closer, to look at the display case of pastries, pointing them out, their shoulders pressed together.

Oikawa Tooru feels he’s been left utterly behind, with broken legs, in a sudden downpour.

Finally, _finally_ , Hanamaki and Matsukawa make their appearance, jogging over to stand by him. By then, Ushijima and Iwaizumi have gotten their drinks and taken a seat. Not at a counter, but at one of those intimate two person date tables.

Oikawa is seething.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa look through the glass, mouths gaping at the sight they had thought was a joke. “Holy shit,” Matsukawa can’t help breathing out.

“Ok, it might not be a date.” Hanamaki insists, slowly, as if trying to convince himself.

“They’re at a _date_ table!” Oikawa practically wails. His teammates frown, “Iwa-chan is a _traitor_.”

“Ok, calm down.” Hanamaki continues, “We gotta be sure. Let’s run some tests. See how legit this is.”

“If anything, Iwaizumi might just be there out of politeness.” Matsukawa supplies, with a slight ray of hope.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki agrees quickly, latching on to the possibility, “Ushijima just showed up at his house, asking him to the cafe and his kind polite ass had to accept.”

“And he’s desperate for any kind of escape!” Oikawa finishes, eyes bright as he starts pushing past Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Because anything is better than the grim reality he had spent the past ten minutes trying to comprehend, “Don’t worry Iwa-chan, I’ll save you!”

Or he would have, if Matsukawa hadn’t grabbed at his shirt, holding him back. Hanamaki lets out a sigh, “Hold on there tiger. Let’s see if he _wants_ to be rescued first.”

Matsukawa nods, “Try calling him.”

Oikawa nibbles at his lip but nods. He longs to storm in and punch Ushijima in the face, for tricking Iwaizumi into spending time with him. He slips his phone out, tapping on favorites and selecting his best friend’s number.

The three of them are pressed close to the glass, watching, waiting.

After a few seconds, Iwaizumi rummages in his pocket, pulling out his vibrating phone. The trio outside hold their breaths as Iwaizumi reads the name flashing on his screen.

And then they watch him lock his phone, slipping it back in his pocket and returning to listening to Ushijima intently.

Oikawa drops his phone, his heart shattering in his chest at the _ultimate_ betrayal.

Matsukawa is quick on his feet, catching the device before it similarly shatters on the pavement.

“He chose _Ushiwaka-chan_.” Oikawa hisses, “He chose Ushiwaka-chan _over me_.”

“Oikawa.” Hanamaki starts, careful.

“I’m going to kill him.” Oikawa whispers, moving toward the cafe entrance, “I’m going to kill Ushiwaka-chan with my bare hands.”

“Oikawa, no.” Matsukawa, huffs, grabbing his arm. Hanamaki takes the other, making it impossible for Oikawa to move forward no matter how hard he struggles.

And boy does he struggle, legs and arms flailing, “No! Let me go! This isn’t fair!” Matsukawa’s and Hanamaki’s grips on him only tighten, “He can’t have _everything_!” Oikawa whines, pleadingly, in response.

The bell of the cafe door chimes, and the trio are quick to duck around the corner, peering over the edge to see Ushijima holding the door open for Iwaizumi as they depart. Iwaizumi tugs Ushijima’s arm, pointing in the opposite direction Ushijima had been attempting to go. The taller man nods, and the pair make their way down the sidewalk, turning out of sight.

The trio exhales.

“Oikawa, get up off the floor.” Hanamaki sighs, prodding with his foot.

Oikawa is curled up on the ground, knees pressed against his chest, “ _No_.”

“It’s not the end of the world.” Matsukawa reasons.

 _“_ It is!” Oikawa snaps back, although the words are muffled through his knees.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a glance, “Look, we don’t know anything yet, alright. No need to jump to conclusions.”

Oikawa shakes his head, lifting it up to look at his two friends with big watery brown eyes, “You don’t understand,” He whimpers, “Last night, Iwa-chan brought up Ushiwaka-chan, saying he wanted to give him a chance and that he wasn’t that bad.”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s eyes widen.

“I think Iwa-chan has a crush on Ushiwaka-chan _.”_

 _Which means he doesn’t have a crush on me_.

* * *

“Thank you very much for spending the afternoon with me.” Ushijima says, as he stands at Iwaizumi’s doorstep.

Iwaizumi waves him off, “You really don’t need to thank me every single time.” He scratches his cheek. _It’s sweet, though_ , he thinks. He shakes the thought off quickly.

“I have been thinking about what you said. About, practice. And its importance.” Ushijima continues, gathering his thoughts carefully, slowly.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi encourages. Over the hours he’s spent with the spiker he’s realized that Ushijima is incredibly self-conscious of his mannerisms and how they differ from others. His bluntness, his lack of tact, his natural monotone. And so he overcompensates, by being longwinded, precise and incredibly clear.

Iwaizumi wonders, in the back of his head, what has made Ushijima so aware of himself.

 _You don’t need to try so hard_.

But he doesn’t say that. Instead he waits, patiently, for Ushijima to get to his point, “I was hoping you would, practice with me again? I would greatly enjoy going to a restaurant with you at some point this week.”

Iwaizumi blinks, “A restaurant?”

Ushijima nods, “Is that not what a typical date comprises of?”

Iwaizumi swallows, “No, uh, that’s...Ok.” He nods, steeling himself, “Yeah ok, we can go.”

“Do you have afternoon practice on Friday?” Ushijima asks, pulling out his phone.

“Uh, yeah, we end around five.” Iwaizumi answers.

“As do I.” Ushijima swipes through his phone, “Can I pick you up around then?”

Something about this entire conversation is getting to Iwaizumi, prickling at his skin, reddening his face, constricting his throat. He tries to push it down, “Uh,” He stammers, “How about I meet you at the train station at five thirty? Oikawa would see us if we met up at Seijoh.”

Ushijima blinks, “Ah, that is true. Good thinking. You are in my calendar. I will see you then.”

Iwaizumi nods, mutely and watches as Ushijima turns around with little ceremony, making his way down the street. He stands there, on his steps, slowly realizing he spent his entire free Sunday afternoon with Ushijima, and _enjoyed_ it.

He squeezes his hand into a fist at his side. His wrist taps against the hard square in his pocket; his cell phone.

 _Oikawa_.

He slips the phone out quickly, going to missed calls and tapping Oikawa’s name. Oikawa had called him in the cafe, but Iwaizumi hadn’t wanted to be rude, or to have Oikawa hear Ushijima’s voice in the background, so he’d let it ring out.

A certain inkling of guilt knots at his stomach. He hopes it was nothing too serious.

It takes a few rings for Oikawa to pick up, and when he does he seems oddly muted. _He’s sulking_ , Iwaizumi guesses, _because I ignored one phone call_. It’s typical Oikawa, and Iwaizumi can’t help but smile a bit.

His Sunday was nice, but it did lack a certain flair of excitement.

He misses him.

“Oi, Shittykawa, you needed something?” He asks, voice a bit more vibrant, grin stretching on his face.

“Oh, Iwa-chan _does_ remember me.” Oikawa whines through the receiver, petulantly.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “I missed _one_ phone call.”

“It’s the principle of it.” Oikawa insists, “A call from me should be the highlight of your Sunday.”

Iwaizumi laughs, because he loves the banter he has so naturally with Oikawa. His silly teasings, his straight-face absurdity. He loves him. He really does. It stings him it’s so much, “I was busy.” He murmurs as he quiets down.

There’s a beat of silence, something unusual for the ever-talkative Grand King, as if he’s gathering his thoughts, weighing his options. Iwaizumi furrows his brows in anticipation, “Oikawa?”

“Doing what?”

“Huh?”

Oikawa rephrases, quickly, “What were you doing? That you were so busy?”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi swallows, mind racing, because Oikawa _can’t_ know. But he’s not used to lying, especially to Oikawa. He’s suddenly grateful they’re on the phone and not face to face, “I was, uh, running errands with my dad.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then suddenly Oikawa’s voice is bright and cheery in his ears, “Tsk, tsk, Iwa-chan. Being a model son is no excuse to ignore me!” It’s forced. Iwaizumi can tell.

But Iwaizumi doesn’t comment on it.

He realizes then, that they both know that the other is lying, but neither are willing to deal with it.

He keeps with the status quo, “My bad, next time I’ll drop everything and run to you.” He teases, listening as Oikawa giggles at him. His heart flutters, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Bright and early!” Oikawa agrees, “Bye, Iwa-chan!”

“Bye, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi murmurs, hanging up.

He stands there, slipping his phone back in its confines, realizing he’s still on his front step. He reddens a bit, quickly opening the door and stepping inside. He needs to calm down. Get a hold of himself.

_Don’t be weird._

* * *

**> IWA-CHAN DEFENSE SQUAD<**

**> Oikawa Tooru: **IWA-CHAN IS LYING TO ME

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **Back up

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** u got updates?

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** he called me back just now

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** AFTER GETTING DROPPED OFF BY THE ENEMY

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **how do you know this

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **ive been keeping watch at my window

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **ushiwaka-chan walked him to his door and left him there n then iwa-chan called me

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **what a gentleman

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** SHUT UP

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** how long have you been waiting for him to get back

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** This is about Iwa-chan

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** omfg

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** so whats the update? other than ushijima’s an old school guy

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **kinda already knew that

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** did they kiss??

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **GROSS NO

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **Yeah, matsun. Iwaizumi isn’t that easy. Three dates at least.

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** ur right. apologies. we raised him right.

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** LISTEN TO ME

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **IWA-CHAN LIED

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** TO ME

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** ok ok what did he say

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I asked him why he didn’t answer my call earlier. he said he was running errands with his dad

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **oh snap

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** how do we know thats a lie

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** Of course its a lie!!!! We SAW THEM

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** but maybe this is his way of confessing that Ushijima’s his Sugar Daddy

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** holy shit

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** MAKKI CHAN THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SERIOUS CONVERSATION

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** Makki put ur hand on the screen i’m high fiving you in spirit

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** thnks man

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** you guys are the WORST

* * *

Oikawa Tooru lets his phone drop on his bed and his playful mask drop from his face. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, hands running up to drag against his skin, pulling and fidgeting until they find their way up to his hair and _tug._ He grits his teeth.

Iwaizumi Hajime, his best friend, his first friend, his first _love_ perhaps, has a crush on Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and chapter two!!!
> 
> updates will now be more sporadic but its super fun to write this story so hopefully they'll come relatively quickly (not as quick as these two came tho)
> 
> chatlogs are super fun to write and I need to be Stopped
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy these boys and the absolute mess they are
> 
> see you next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something thunders in his chest.

The week that follows that fateful weekend, Iwaizumi finds, goes by incredibly slowly. The air amongst the third years seems off. Oikawa is jumpy, and keeps staring at him. Matsukawa and Hanamaki seem even more conspiratory than usual. And Iwaizumi finds himself oddly desperate for the respite from school that the weekend will bring.

He’s actually excited about his dinner plans with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Because Ushijima Wakatoshi is very different from his usual circle of friends. For one, he’s _reasonable_. Iwaizumi has always been the voice of reason amongst his friendships, keeping them out of too much trouble. Sure he can blow up himself, but thats usually because his incessant friends’ need to rile him up at all hours of the day.

But Ushijima is oddly agreeable when the discussion is not centered on volleyball. There’s no blatant superiority in his words, no callback to Iwaizumi’s past failures, no anger or regret. Instead, he discovers the spiker is also a movie buff, although he prefers the classics over the sci-fi and b-films Oikawa and Iwaizumi ascribe to. He’s interested in agricultural engineering, has a secret love for gardening and loves the outdoors as much as Iwaizumi does.

It’s pleasant.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa snaps him back to attention, “We should go see the new alien movie tonight.”

“Can’t.” Iwaizumi responds as he crouches down to do up his laces. Practice has finished up, the team collecting their things in the locker room and making their way out. He catches Kindaichi and Kunimi’s backs as they leave through the doors with the other first years. The second years have long gone, Watari shoving an irate Kyoutani and mischievous Yahaba out the door with him.

Oikawa pauses, looking down at him, “What? Why?”

“I’ve got plans.” Iwaizumi shrugs, turning to his other shoe. He keeps his gaze down, hoping this non-explanation is enough to satiate his best friend.

“What kind of plans?” Oikawa continues, because of course it isn’t enough. It’s never enough when it comes to Oikawa Tooru.

“Dinner plans.” Iwaizumi continues, nonchalantly, standing up and turning away quickly to close his locker door. He really should have thought up an excuse beforehand. He had all damn week to do so.

“Dinner plans?” Oikawa echoes, and Iwaizumi can hear the hurt laced in his words. And it hurts Iwaizumi, to lie to him. It squeezes at his heart and keeps him from looking at his face.

Maybe he should just tell him.

Suddenly, Matsukawa and Hanamaki have slung their arms around Oikawa, caging him between them, “Perfect,” Matsukawa cuts in, “We need Oikawa’s help on our physics assignment, but felt bad stealing him away from his precious Iwa-chan.”

Hanamaki nods, “Go, quickly Iwaizumi! We’ll hold him off!” He teases playfully, sending him an encouraging thumbs up.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He hesitates though, before leaving the locker room entirely, turning his head back to look at Oikawa’s sagging form, “Let’s go to the movies tomorrow night, ok?” He offers, dashing away before his burning ears give him away.

Oikawa _shines_ in the afterglow of the invitation, but he quickly dims as he remembers his current captors, struggling out of their arms, “What the hell was _that_?”

“Look,” Hanamaki says, oddly serious, smirk dropping from his face, “Don’t be a dick.”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa asks, incredulously. _He_ wasn’t the one constantly manhandling his friends.

“If this is real,” Matsukawa continues firmly, “Then it’s Iwaizumi’s first relationship.”

Oikawa swallows. He feels his hands clench into fists at his side instinctively, imagines Ushijima’s stupid stoic handsome face centimeters from his knuckles, hears the satisfying crunch of the two connecting.

“Don’t ruin it for him.” Hanamaki states, narrowing his eyes and bringing Oikawa back.

And then he sees Iwaizumi, face bright and laughing beside Ushijima in that stupid cafe, _happy_.

Oikawa wilts, forcing his fingers to unclench because he knows they’re _right_. He’s Iwaizumi’s best friend. He has to be supportive. Has to be there for him through thick and thin. Because he loves Iwaizumi, loves him more than anything, and wants him happy. No matter what.

Even if it means taking a step back.

“Fine.” Oikawa sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. Something he’s always had trouble trying to swallow, despite being faced with it over and over again. And by Ushijima’s hands too, no less.

“Now come on,” Matsukawa grins, taking Oikawa’s wrist in his hand, “Before he gets too far.”

Oikawa blinks at him as he’s dragged out of the locker room. Feet catching on the tile beneath him to the point where he almost falls in surprise. But he catches himself, keeping pace as smoothly as he can.

Hanamaki is right behind them, “Just because we’re supportive, doesn’t mean we can’t stalk the shit out of them.”

Matsukawa nods, peering around the corner and seeing Iwaizumi’s retreating form, “Yeah, we’re the Iwa-chan Defense Squad, aren’t we?”

Oikawa laughs. He feels the anxiety seep out for a moment in the breathy noise and the bright grin comes back to his face easily enough.

* * *

Iwaizumi meets Ushijima at the train station in the city, waving at him as he gets off his train. Ushijima nods, standing up from the bench he had been seated at, waiting. He’s changed out of his school uniform, wearing dark pants and a flannel button up, the sleeves rolled up to the crooks of his elbows. Iwaizumi’s still in his own uniform, but he’s stuffed the white jacket into his bag, along with the tie.

Ushijma doesn’t comment on any of it and Iwaizumi simply walks over to stand by him. He realizes then that he’s not entirely sure of what the plan for the evening even is. Despite having the event consume his thoughts for the past four days.

_(Well, consume half his thoughts, the other half were still dedicated to thinking about Oikawa, and graduation looming on the horizon.)_

“Does Oikawa have a favorite restaurant?” Ushijima asks, as they exit onto the sidewalk, looking both ways before crossing the street.

“Not really,” Iwaizumi confesses, stuffing his hands into his pant’s pockets, “He’s more into the aesthetic of the restaurant itself.”

Ushijima snorts, and Iwaizumi does a double take. Did that really just happen? Something jumps in his chest, and he looks away quickly. Ushijima is oblivious to it all, muttering, “Somehow, I am not surprised.”

Iwaizumi can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his throat. Because yeah, neither is he. Because Oikawa is just that silly of a guy, and he loves it about him. He loves him. God, does he love him.

But he quiets himself down as he’s bumped into by a stressed out business man pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk in a hurry. Iwaizumi falls into Ushijima who is quick to catch him, fingers grasping his upper arms, squeezing tightly on reflex. Ushijma rights him up immediately, hands retracting as quickly as they’d latched on.

Iwaizumi sends an angry shout back at the man, punctuating his remarks with some especially colorful language, before letting out a huff. He straightens himself up, pursing his lips and patting down his arms in annoyance. It’s only a second, but he can’t help noticing the piercing gaze on his back from Ushijima. He ignores it as best he can.

Ushijima clears his throat, gaining Iwaizumi’s attention once more. Oddly enough, Ushijima won’t look him in the eye at the moment, gaze landing to the side of him, chin lifted up and away. He speaks nevertheless, deep and strong yet with the slightest waver in the last syllable, “Then, do, do you have a favorite restaurant?”

Iwaizumi blinks, because he isn’t expecting this. Still, he rarely goes into the city these days, and when he does, he always defers decision making to Oikawa, because it’s easier that way. So he finds himself jumping at the chance to take the lead, “There’s a great agedashi tofu place a few blocks down from here.”

Ushijima blinks, eyes centering back on Iwaizumi’s face curiously, “You prefer tofu?”

“I fucking love tofu.” Iwaizumi admits, turning to start walking down the sidewalk, a grin growing on his face just at the thought of eating his favorite meal.

Ushijima quickens his pace to keep up, “I always thought you were more carnivorous.”

Iwaizumi furrows his brow at the odd sentence, but doesn’t comment on the phrasing, “I mean, I’m not a vegetarian. I’ll eat whatever. But agedashi tofu is fucking phenomenal.”

Iwaizumi swears, from the corner of his eye he can see Ushijima’s lips lift into a subtle smile, “You surprise me, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Something thunders in Iwaizumi’s chest and he almost stumbles where the sidewalk is laid uneven, but he catches himself. His grin grows bigger, slyer, reaching his eyes, and there’s a sudden confident spring in his step, “Yeah, well, better get used to it.”

* * *

“They’re at Iwa-chan’s favorite restaurant.” Oikawa whispers, pointing at the booth Ushijima and Iwaizumi are being seated at, finger tapping at the clear glass in front of him. He quickly retracts it for fear of alerting the patrons inside of their presence.

“Damn,” Hanamaki breathes, beside him, “Who knew Ushijima was such a smooth operator.”

“Do they have takeout?” Matsukawa asks a loud.

Oikawa nudges him with his elbow, “You can’t go in there! _They’ll see us!_ ”

“That’s why I’m asking if they have takeout.” Matsukawa reasons easily.

“I wonder what they’re talking about.” Hanamaki murmurs, “Maybe one of us should go in to eavesdrop.”

“Too risky!” Oikawa snaps, tugging Hanamaki back into the shadows and away from the large window.

“Aww, look,” Hanamaki points, despite it all, “I think Iwaizumi’s ordering for the both of them.”

Oikawa whips his head back around to look, catching sight of Iwaizumi’s back as he leans forward, pointing at things on the menu for the waiter. From his vantage point he can see Ushijima best, dressed nicely, face serene. It makes him pause, realizing it’s his first glimpse at his rival off the court, in normal day clothes, relaxed pose and looking, well, human.

 _He looks really good,_ Oikawa thinks bitterly, biting his lip and feeling his heart clench a bit. _It’s not fair._

“Hi, yes, I was hoping to order some food, but do you do delivery?” Matsukawa talks into his phone, “Well, you wouldn’t need to go far. If you had someone just, come to the very back of the restaurant right next to the dumpster.”

Hanamaki tries to hold in his snickers. Oikawa holds his face in his hands.

“Oh shit, hold on, look.” Hanamaki murmurs, “Iwaizumi’s getting up.”

Oikawa looks over quickly, seeing Iwaizumi walk towards the back of the restaurant, leaving Ushijima alone at the booth. He straightens up then, eyes hardened, ready to storm in, but Hanamaki grabs his arm.

Oikawa looks at him fiercely, “I’m not going to ruin it. I just--I have to make sure this is serious. What if, what if Ushiwaka-chan is playing him? He has to pass my scrutiny!” Oikawa’s voice lowers, brown eyes honest and open for a moment, “I don’t want Iwa-chan to get hurt.”

Hanamaki frowns, but his grip isn’t as stringent on his arm.

Matsukawa continues to ignore the both of them, “Yes, I realize it’s a weird request. But I can’t go inside the building. I’m, uh, allergic to upholstery.”

“I’m his _best friend_.” Oikawa persists, pleadingly and finally Hanamaki lets him go, a sigh passing through his lips. 

“I’ll knock on the glass when I see him come back alright? That’s you’re only warning.” He continues, pursing his lips and folding his arms across his chest. Oikawa brightens, giving a quick assenting nod.

“Thanks Makki-chan!” Oikawa calls as he races into the restaurant. He pushes past the waiter, ignoring his question- _Table for one?_ \--and heading straight for Ushijima’s booth. The teen doesn’t notice him until he all but falls into the seat across from him, too busy swiping through his phone.

When he does look up at the sound, his mouth parts, eyebrows shooting up in shock, “Oikawa?”

“Ushiwaka-chan! What a surprise!” Oikawa heaves in a breath, forcing on a smile as he straightens himself, “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Ushijima pauses, furrowing his brow. He glances to the side, in the direction Iwaizumi had disappeared. He looks _nervous_ , something Oikawa absolutely delights in seeing.

“Trick question!” Oikawa grins, and then his smile drops, and he leans over the table, voice dropping low and deep, “I know _exactly_ why you’re here.”

Ushijima is silent, mouth still open, leaning back and away. Oikawa isn’t sure if it’s the dim lighting of the restaurant or if Ushijima’s skin is starting to burn. _Beautiful._

Oikawa smirks, feeling comfortable and in control, something he’s lacked the past few days as he’s watched his life spiral around him. He picks up a knife for added drama, playing with it in his hands as he speaks, “Now, Ushiwaka-chan, don’t worry. I won’t stop you. But,” He adds, and his eyes become hooded. They glint in the low light, just like the knife turning in his hand; a warning, “If you do _anything_ to hurt my Iwa-chan,” He continues, leaning even closer, blunt knife coming to tap on Ushijima’s chin, “I will _destroy_ you.”

Ushijima nods, slowly, gaze flickering from the dull knife to Oikawa’s dark expression. But he doesn’t look scared, he looks _invigorated_. Oikawa doesn’t dwell on it, accepting the silent nod for what it is. An agreement.

Oikawa flashes another fake smile, pulling back as suddenly as he’d leaned forward, setting the knife down and standing up, “Great. Glad we’re on the same page.”

He turns to leave, mission accomplished, feeling a bit better. Seeing Ushijima anxious around him, having the upper ground, floods him with a sense of victory he relishes in. But as he attempts to go Ushijima’s hand rockets out, grabbing his wrist, making him reel back out of his revelry. He catches himself, turning around, “What?” He asks, squinting his eyes.

“You care about Iwaizumi a great deal.” Ushijima says and Oikawa glares at him, because _of course he does_! Ushijima is unfazed by the look, gaze unflinching and strong, “He cares about you, as well.”

Oikawa feels his cheeks flush a little. But he knows Iwaizumi cares about him, how could he not? They’ve been friends for ages. Yet, hearing it from Ushijima makes his heart beat a bit faster, makes his hands start to sweat, makes his fingers start to fidget.

“I admit, I am...I am envious.” Ushijima pushes through, and suddenly his eyes can no longer meet Oikawa’s as directly, “Iwaizumi Hajime, I have learned, is a wonderful person.”

Oikawa almost chokes, heart hammering in his chest, threatening to climb up his throat and fall on the table for everyone to see. And he can’t bring himself to speak up because he has no idea what to say. He stammers, hot, the grip on his wrist like fire.

Ushijima nods, “I will treat him well.” He lets go of Oikawa’s wrist, and the setter is quick to retract his arm as if he’d been burned, other hand coming to hold the skin touched by the spiker. But again, before Oikawa can leave, Ushijima speaks up, “I hope this means our own relationship can progress.”

There’s a sudden loud knock on the window, making the pair jump. “I was never here!” Oikawa hisses, unable to really process the last sentence, as he leaps away, sprinting out of the cafe and out of sight.

Oikawa dives into Hanamaki, who helps drag him back to their hiding spot, completely out of breath. They turn their heads to spot Iwaizumi sitting down in his seat and chatting with Ushijima easily enough.

“You looked like a psychopath.” Hanamaki retorts, raising an eyebrow at his friend. But there’s a playful twist to his lips, a certain proud sheen in his eyes.

“The knife was a bit much.” Matsukawa readily agrees, and there’s a laugh ghosting his words, tickling their edges and ending his sentence with an uncontrolled smile.

There is nothing humorous in Oikawa’s expression, hidden in the growing darkness, looking at the ground, “I want to go home.” Oikawa decides.

“Can’t, they’re bringing our food out to the dumpster in ten minutes.” Matsukawa reminds, unaware.

Oikawa turns away, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shrugging off Hanamaki tentative hand on his shoulder, “I’m not hungry. I’m going home.”

“Oikawa,” Hanamaki starts, but Oikawa waves him off as he stomps away, head down.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a glance and let out a sigh. Hanamaki cups a hand around his lips, amplifying his voice, “We expect a full update in the chat before bedtime!” Matsukawa elbows him in the side.

* * *

**> Oikawa Tooru has initiated a conversation with Iwaizumi Hajime<**

>Oikawa Tooru: Iwa-chan i know ur eating dinner but i was wondering if u could come over later

>Oikawa Tooru: i want to talk about stuff :/

* * *

Ushijima is distracted as Iwaizumi sits back down across from him, apologizing for his long absence. Something about the men’s bathroom line being obscenely long. Ushijima simply nods, playing with the knife Oikawa had pointed at his face in a ploy to be threatening.

“Is that my knife?” Iwaizumi asks, aloud, making Ushijima blink.

He looks back down at the knife in his hands, “It is.” He replies slowly before offering the utensil back to its proper owner.

Iwaizumi furrows his brow, but there is a light smile on his lips, as if he’s amused by the whole thing, “You ok?” He asks, as he puts the knife back down beside his other utensils.

“Yes.” Ushijima says immediately. He pauses. “No.” He corrects.

Iwaizumi frowns, “What’s wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong, per se.” Ushijima continues, “I am just, a bit, confused at the moment.” He decides, flicking his gaze from Iwaizumi to stare at nothing at all.

Ushijima Wakatoshi has always considered himself to be a man of stability and tradition. There are things so true and important to life, long figured out, that it is unnecessary to re-evaluate them. The sort of knowledge pass down to generations, like how to plant seeds in the ground and watch them grow.

Because of this, Ushijima does not cope with change too well. He has a picture in his mind of what things should be, how they should rationally work, and when things don’t go as planned, they become problematic. For example, how Oikawa could choose a lesser team than Shiratorizawa. It does not make sense, with all the facts and stats on the table.

But Oikawa was never one to be won over through rationality.

Ushijima is a man of tradition. With certain ideals and values and beliefs. Oikawa had always been one to upset them, to have him look outside the box he’d been presented from youth, the path long engraved of what his life should be. To rip apart his preconceived notions of what his future held (the house, the dog, the _wife_ ), and leave him bare and shaky and _confused_.

“Confused?” Iwaizumi repeats, looking at him, curiously. Attentive. Listening. _Caring_. His green eyes are so open, so honest. There is nothing confusing about them. There is no glint of manipulation, of hidden intent, like in those shielded brown eyes. Iwaizumi’s are open fields without shadows. If stormy weather comes, the warnings can be found in the growing winds and darkening skies, in furrowed brows and angry words.

You know when Iwaizumi is upset, when he is angry, when he is happy, when he is _listening_.

Ushijima greatly appreciates the simplicity of it.

“Oikawa must care a great deal about you.” He finds himself murmuring, perhaps a bit dejectedly. Although, he’s sure his natural monotone hides most of his feelings.

He can’t help thinking it. Of thinking About the bond so apparent between his two rivals. It is something he had picked up on while battling on the court, but it is another thing to see it continue on in daily life, even stronger and brighter.

He’s jealous, he realizes.

It is not a familiar feeling. There isn’t very much Ushijima Wakatoshi is jealous of in this world. He has a loving family, both parents, an old home with an older history, and an incredible team. Awards fill up the walls of his room and he is incredibly proud of all that he has accomplished.

But he doesn’t think Oikawa would ever like him as much as he likes Iwaizumi.

And, he thinks, in a sudden after thought, that Iwaizumi would never like him as much as he likes Oikawa.

The latter surprises him, because it stings almost as much as the former.

He can’t help but frown.

“I don’t know about that. He’s an infuriating little shit.” Iwaizumi snorts, but he says the words with a hidden smile, a deep affection, grown and sown over the course of a decade or more.

If Ushijima’s relationship with Oikawa is a sprout, Iwaizumi’s is a sturdy oak, with roots that run deeper and thicker than most of the world’s rivers.

(And Ushijima’s relationship with Iwaizumi is but a seed in freshly dug ground.)

And perhaps Ushijima has made a critical error, and the strong neighboring roots of the overwhelming giant tree will choke his seeds out, no matter how laboriously he tends to the soil.

Their food arrives, and Ushijima focuses on eating rather than conversing. He has a lot to think about, to dissect, examine and understand. He needs to know if this is all just a pointless endeavor. If four weeks is too short a time for love to even blossom.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says softly, his gruff voice quieter, eyes upturned in a shared kind of sympathy. Ushijima looks up at him from his plate of food, waiting, “I really do think you have a chance with him.”

Ushijima feels his grip on his chopsticks tighten, and he does his best to contain his strength as not to break them. He forces a nod, “I trust your judgement.” He lies.

Iwaizumi grins at him, encouraging and warm. With that given, he descends upon his meal with an ravenous appetite that Ushijima can’t help but be impressed with. Iwaizumi’s normally furrowed brows lifting up in joy to reveal a much more natural, happy state. Ushijima quickly looks down at his own plate.

“I like Oikawa.” Ushijima mutters, to his food, to himself, to the little sprout he waters in his heart, like a reminder. Because it’s true. He does.

And yet it doesn’t feel right.

It’s not a lie.

But it’s not the whole truth either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And theres chapter 3!!!!
> 
> the seeds have been sown!!! But will the weather be kind??
> 
> i'm having a lot of fun writing this silly story and i hope y'all continue to read it!
> 
> (also its my first time writing Ushijima's POV so i'm still getting used to it)
> 
> your comments give me life


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a minute he doubts himself, because he thinks Iwaizumi is disappointed by this, but it’s only for a second,

Oikawa lets his phone drop on his bed, grabbing his pillow and hugging it close to his chest. He had come home from his spying with a fog around him, ignored his mother’s calls for dinner and sank into his bed, dejected. And then he’d messaged Iwaizumi, because that’s just what he does when he’s upset.

He lets out a sigh, breathing into his pillow and replaying the conversation with Ushijima again and again.

_Iwaizumi, I have learned, is a wonderful person._

Oikawa buries his face into his pillow, heat rising up his neck to consume his face. Because it’s _true_. Iwaizumi _is_ a wonderful person, an incredible person, the most important person in the whole damn world. And he realizes, then, as he hears Ushijima say the statement again and again within the confines of his mind, that not enough people realize that.

Oikawa thinks, thinks back as far as he can, to anytime when Iwaizumi had been showered with well deserved attention. And he can’t think of many episodes at all. Sure, Iwaizumi has always been praised by his own parents, and Oikawa’s parents as well, but other than that, there really isn’t anything that stands out.

A sudden anger burns in Oikawa’s chest at the injustice. At the fact that the world remains oblivious to how good Iwaizumi Hajime is, how thoughtful, how strong, how _wonderful_.

But Ushijima gets it. Apparently. He’s seen the light that is Iwaizumi Hajime and he’s taken action. That’s more than even Oikawa can say. And he hates it.

Why does Ushijima Wakatoshi have to have _everything_.

But no, Oikawa thinks as he sits up, that isn’t fair. Because Iwaizumi Hajime is not some pretty object to be won. He has feelings. He’s his own person, who deserves love and happiness just like everyone else. _More_ than everyone else.

 _Don’t be a dick_.

He must have been moping over his broken heart for longer then he expected, because there’s a sudden knock at his bedroom door. He looks over, seeing Iwaizumi step into his room with practiced ease. He carries a plate of food and a drink in his hands, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Oi, Shittykawa, your mom says you haven’t eaten.” Iwaizumi snaps, placing the food on the teen’s desk. Oikawa lets out a whine, but Iwaizumi is undeterred, dragging him off the bed and sitting him down at his desk chair.

“Iwa-chan why are you even here?” Oikawa whimpers, picking up his chopsticks regardless, “You’re not my mom.”

Iwaizumi sits down on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms, “You’re the one who asked me over.”

Oikawa blinks, thinking back to his text message, “Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He laughs, turning to eat some of his food.

Iwaizumi isn’t impressed, “What did you want to talk about?”

Oikawa shrugs, occupying his mouth with his food, hoping its enough to deter Iwaizumi from questioning him further. What he forgets is that Iwaizumi is an incredibly patient man, and that Oikawa can’t stand silence for more than two seconds.

He lets out a growl, “It was a moment of weakness! I don’t want to talk about it.”

Iwaizumi remains stone cold silent, gaze digging into him, deep and cutting. Oikawa’s grip on his chopsticks tighten, and he bites his lip, swiveling his desk chair away, “Fine!” He snaps, “Fine.” He puts the chopsticks down, spinning his chair back to face Iwaizumi again, “It’s just...I guess...I don’t know,” He wracks his brain for a way to express everything he’s feeling, without telling Iwaizumi how much he knows.

“Ushiwaka-chan is pretty cool.” He blurts out, and his face twists into horror when he realizes he’s uttered them. Out loud.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, blinking at the statement. A complement about Ushijima Wakatoshi, coming out of Oikawa Tooru’s mouth? Now he’s seen everything. He feels himself flush a little and can’t help the tiny little nod, “Yeah, he kinda is.” He agrees softly.

Oikawa swallows, hands fisting on his knees, _stay strong_ , _do it for Iwa-chan_. “He’s got his own weird charm.” He continues, tongue twisting as he’s forced to speak positively about the rival spiker. Though it’s not as hard as it should be.

Iwaizumi grins at him, bright and shining and _blinding_ , and Oikawa is struck by how _handsome_ Iwaizumi Hajime is. He wants to clutch at the pain in his chest, but he digs his fingers into his knees instead.

“You know, he’s into movies.” Iwaizumi comments, nonchalantly, and Oikawa stops himself from asking _how_ he knows that. Because, Iwaizumi will tell him in his own time. He just has to wait.

“Oh?” Oikawa prompts.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi continues, “He’s super into the classics apparently. Not much into sci-fi though.”

“What about Star Wars?” Oikawa reasons, getting up to sit beside Iwaizumi, forgoing his heated up meal.

“Dunno.” Iwaizumi shrugs, easily, making room for him on the bed. There sides are pressed against each other and neither of them mind.

“Find out.” Oikawa orders.

“How about you do?” Iwaizumi counters with a knowing smirk, “Perfect conversation starter to keep you from tearing at each others throats.”

Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms petulantly, “I can behave myself.”

Iwaizumi laughs, “Especially since you think he’s ‘pretty cool’ now, huh?” He teases with a sly smile.

Oikawa feels his face reddening, looking away with a fierce pout. Iwaizumi laughs beside him, knocking a fist playfully into his side, digging it just below his ribs where he _knows_ Oikawa is ticklish. Oikawa squawks as he starts giggling against his will, hands shooting to retaliate. Iwaizumi half shrieks as his best friend pounces on him, his grin overtaking his entire face. They roll around together as they laugh, messing up Oikawa’s bed in the process. A week’s worth of worry and tension escaping through their lips as they clutch at each other.

And finally as they calm down, eyes shining, Oikawa leans down smiling softly at Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi looks back at him, face pink and lips parted, taking in quick breaths. And Oikawa leans close, almost too close, and says, “Invite Ushiwaka-chan to the movies with us tomorrow.”

Something flickers in Iwaizumi’s eyes, something Oikawa can’t catch, but the teen blinks it away, sitting up, “You, you sure?”

Oikawa grins, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

But for a minute he doubts himself, because he thinks Iwaizumi is disappointed by this. But it’s only for a second, before Iwaizumi quickly sits up and starts typing away at his phone.

When Iwaizumi isn’t looking, Oikawa wipes his hand over his watery eyes and takes a deep breath.

 _Do it for Iwa-chan_.

* * *

 

**> IWA-CHAN DEFENSE SQUAD<**

**> Hanamaki Takahiro:** come on man its been hours whats the update

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** let the king sulk

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I wasn’t sulking

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** yo spill

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** we ate ur share of food btw

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** It’s fine Iwa-chan brought me food <3

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **because he’s a GOOD friend

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **Iwa cooked for u?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **he reheated my moms cooking

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** And they say romance is dead

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** im glad uve been fed now SPILL

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** they’re in love with each other and im so upset

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** that bad?

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** ushiwaka-chan said that iwa-chan was a wonderful person :ccc

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** wtf y is ushi so smooth

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** callin hacks

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **and then when I told iwa-chan ‘i guess ushiwaka-chan is ok’ he started smiling!!! so bright!!! and then he started gushing about the stuff ushiwaka-chan likes

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** gushing??? seriously???

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** boys got it bad

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** and then i let him invite ushiwaka-chan to our movie night tomorrow :/

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **oh shit

 **> Matuskawa Issei: **u ok with that

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** no

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** but I’ll deal

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **for Iwa-chan

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** ur a brave man Oikawa

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **we’ll buy u a milkbread if u survive the movie without punching ushijima in the face

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **really???

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** no

**> Hanamaki Takahiro changed the group chat name to IWA IS DOKI DOKI FOR USHI<**

**> Matsukawa Issei changed the group chat name to ushIWAka-chan<**

**> Hanamaki Takahiro:** holy shit

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** the signs were always there

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i hate both of you

* * *

“Ushiwaka! Over here!” Iwaizumi waves, watching a Ushijima catches sight of him and walks over with his usual nod.

“Is Oikawa with you?” Ushijima asks, looking around.

“He’s coming. He told me to meet him here, something about me seeing you first.” Iwaizumi explains easily, “And I thought it’d be good to check with you first, since this was pretty sudden and all.”

“I greatly appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Ushijima says seriously, “You have accelerated my chances and, in addition, provided valuable company to me.”

Iwaizumi waves him off again, “It’s fine! Honestly.”

“Should I give Oikawa my letter now?” Ushijima continues, already eagerly turning to his messenger bag.

“No! Uh, we,” Iwaizumi stammers quickly, “We still need to re-write that!”

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Ushijima replies, slipping the red letter out and handing it to Iwaizumi, “I have re-written it. Could you read it once more and provide further comments? I value your constructive criticism greatly.”

Iwaizumi takes the letter, “Uh, yeah, sure.” He feels his face color slightly without his permission as he opens it.

_Dear Oikawa,_

_It has come to my attention that I have started developing feelings for you. At first I believed it to be our mutual rivalry, but that can no longer explain my heart palpitations when I think of you, nor the fact you cling to my thoughts most hours of the day. I really do wish to spend more time with you, off the court and on. Graduation is on the horizon, so I hope you will give me a chance before we leave for university._

_Thank you for reading this,_

_Ushijima Wakatoshi_

Something burns in Iwaizumi’s chest, prickling at his eyes and tightening his grip on the letter. He’s not sure what it is. Jealousy? That Ushijima is able to communicate his feelings for Oikawa so honestly and easily? Or is it that there’s a part of him that longs to be told this by someone, anyone? Iwaizumi brushes the latter away, it’s too pathetic a thought for him to have.

Still, something weighs him down. And suddenly, he realizes what it is. _I’m losing_ , he thinks, looking up at Ushijima’s expectant face, silent and waiting, _I’m losing to Ushijima again._

It’s a familiar feeling.

But this time, there’s a twist to it, an added caveat. And he’s not sure what to call it. But it stings him as he looks into Ushijima’s golden eyes, patiently awaiting his words, to hold them with reverence.

It feels like he’s losing twice.

He’s not sure what to make of it.

“This is much better.” He murmurs, unable to keep the gaze much longer, redness creeping up his neck, “I think you can still tweak it a little though. I’ll read it over again later and get it back to you?”

Ushijima’s lips quirk up in his natural, subtle smile, the one Iwaizumi’s been able to discover the past few days, and he has to look away because it’s _weird_ , to see it. Unnerving. Makes his palms sweat at his sides. Ushijima gives him a deep nod for added measure, and Iwaizumi busies himself by putting away the letter in his own bag.

He waves Ushijima off, prompting him to straighten up, “Alright, come on, get ready. Oikawa will be here any minute.”

* * *

 

**> ushIWAka-chan<**

**> Oikawa Tooru: **OH MY GOD

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **OH MY GOD

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** IT’S OFFICIAL

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** ???

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **USHIWAKA-CHAN GAVE IWA-CHAN A CONFESSION LETTER

 ** _>_ Matsukawa Issei: **are you serious???

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** guy hits all the basis

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I ALMOST WALKED IN ON THEM

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** yeah wait aren’t you supposed to be at the movies?

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** Well I was about to meet them when Ushiwaka-chan whipped it out!!

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **word choice

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** what did Iwaizumi do???

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **He started blushing!!!! And read it and kept it and now he’s smiling

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** disgusting

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **what do I do???

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** go watch the movie

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** Don’t sit between them. don’t want to be caught in the middle of their passionate makeouts

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** GROSS

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **could you imagine making out with ushijima

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **like kissing wet cardboard

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** Hey!!! don’t

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **Holy shit. oikawa’s defending ushijima

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I’m not!!! but like...we just have to be supportive of iwa-chan

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **tru

**> Matsukawa Issei changed the group name to OIKAWA <3 USHIJIMA<**

**> Hanamaki Takahiro: **amazing

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** STOP THAT

 **> Matsukawa Issei:** don’t you have a movie to watch

* * *

 

Oikawa isn’t sure what to expect when he joins the pair in front of the theater. After seeing the emotional official start of their relationship from around the corner, he had debated canceling. But this was supposed to be _his day_ with Iwaizumi. He doesn’t want to lose him so easily. And so that selfish desire keeps him in place, forces him to walk up to the duo and pretend he’d seen nothing.

He doesn’t expect the headlock Iwaizumi wraps him in as he appears, ruffling his hair and snapping a, “Why the hell are you late, dumbass?”

Oikawa squawks at the treatment, pulling away, “Iwa-chan! I worked hard on my hair today.” He huffs, immediately, easily. He gives an exaggerated pout, pulling his phone out to use the camera as a mirror to fix his hair back into place. The tension in his gut seeming to dissipate with Iwaizumi’s familiar, playful touches.

_Not everything has to change._

“Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi snorts, “I’m going to get our tickets, wait here.” As he leaves he gives Ushijima a nudge in his arm, and Oikawa can’t believe how touchy Iwaizumi is with Ushijima already. It prickles his stomach, nauseates his core.

His smile drops and he puts his phone away, squinting up at Ushijima with clear distrust. Ushijima tilts his head at the mood shift.

“I’m watching you.” Oikawa warns, pointing a finger at him to emphasize his point.

“I can see that.” Ushijima nods, and Oikawa swears the man is teasing him, somehow. Because theres a lilt to his voice and the ghost of a smile on his face. But Oikawa can’t believe Ushijima’s knows how to laugh, let alone tease. So he decides not to respond. Ushijima fills the silence, for once, “Your hair looks nice.”

Oikawa can’t help touching his hair at the comment, immediately worrying that something’s happened to it. “Shut up.” He snaps, self consciously, looking away. Did he not fix it completely from Iwaizumi’s assault? Did a bird shit in it? What other explanation was there? _Ushijima complementing him?_ Ha.

“You can be so difficult.” Ushijima sighs, but he doesn’t seem upset with this. His tone light, perhaps, warm? Oikawa glances at him from the side, Ushijima is keeping his gaze on him. And it’s a different sort of gaze then he’s used to receiving from Ushijima on the court.

He realizes then, he’s only _ever_ experienced Ushijima on the court, in the throws of heated battle and crushing defeat. Only seen him from below, filled with righteous anger and unerring pride. Maybe that’s enough to color his vision of someone.

Oikawa nibbles at his lip, “I can’t be won over so easily.” He warns, eyes flashing. Ushijima’s own gaze is piercing, as if he’s up for the challenge, as if he _lives_ for the challenge. It causes a shiver down Oikawa’s spine, and he tries not to think of its implications.

Iwaizumi returns then, holding up three tickets, dealing them out with little effort. Oikawa can still feel Ushijima’s smoldering gaze on him and tries to ignore it, focusing on latching an arm around Iwaizumi’s own in an especially clingy fashion. Iwaizumi barely bats an eyelash to it.

“Iwa-chan! I want popcorn!” Oikawa whines, tugging at the arm and looking over at the concession stand.

“You’ve got your own money, don’t you?” Iwaizumi growls.

“ _Iwa-chan_.” Oikawa pouts, exaggeratedly.

“I can get refreshments.” Ushijima offers easily, much to the pair’s surprised. Iwaizumi looks hesitant, but Oikawa jumps at the chance for free food.

“Get a large popcorn! Iwa-chan and I will get seats!” He calls, dragging Iwaizumi deeper into the theater, “Thank you Ushiwaka-chan!” He adds his voice so high its almost a parody of itself.

Iwaizumi wonders if he’s nervous, especially as his best friend’s grip on his arm only seems to tighten. He guesses it’s understandable. It’s basically a first date, if only made a little easier with his presence.

They enter the mostly empty theater, slipping into the middle aisle. Iwaizumi sits down off center, Oikawa takes the seat beside him. “Save the seat next to you for Ushiwaka.” Iwaizumi reminds him, slipping his bag of his shoulder to place on the floor.

Oikawa blinks at him, “You save the seat next to _you_ for Ushiwaka-chan.”

Iwaizumi lets out a huff, “Don’t be difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult.” Oikawa counters, “I’m being the very opposite of difficult.”

“No you’re not. Just save the seat for him.”

“Iwa-chan, I know you’re a shy man, but this is ridiculous.” Oikawa retorts.

Iwaizumi stares at him, “The hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not moving.” Oikawa decides, firmly, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat. It’s so clear to him how little Iwaizumi understands about love and dates and it’s painful to see. Of course he should be sitting next to Ushijima. How does he not realize this?

“You’re such a brat, fine.” Iwaizumi growls, standing up, “ _I’ll_ move over.” He sidesteps, plopping down one seat away from Oikawa, leaving the seat between them gaping and empty.

Something aches in Oikawa’s heart, because movies were always his and Iwaizumi’s thing, and they’ve never sat apart before. “Iwa-chan, why don’t you want to sit next to me?” He whines, teasing, trying to cover up his own tumultuous stomach. And it’s a bit selfish, and pretty dickish to say when he _knows_ Iwaizumi and Ushijima are into each other. But Iwaizumi doesn’t know he knows, so maybe he can play this card for a little while longer without consequence.

“Cut it out.” Iwaizumi mumbles, “It’s not fair to Ushiwaka.”

It’s a hurtful blow, striking deep into Oikawa’s heart. He says nothing, turning to stare at the screen. Because there’s nothing to say.

 _Ushijima wins yet again_.

“I am here.” Ushijima announces, as if summoned by Oikawa’s self-deprecating thoughts. He stands by Oikawa’s knees, waiting to move through. Oikawa almost jumps at his sudden appearance, but manages to stay calm.

He flashes him a fake bright smile, “Great, wonderful.” He makes room for Ushijima to push past him and take the empty seat. Ushijima is carrying a huge container of popcorn, overflowing in his lap. And he turns to Iwaizumi who smiles at him, says something Oikawa can’t hear. And he doesn’t _want_ to hear it, anyway.

Ushijima turns to him, “Oikawa.”

“I’m watching the previews.” Oikawa shoots back, keeping his gaze locked on the screen.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Ushijima continues, unfazed.

Oikawa feels his face redden, and he quickly shoves a hand into the tub of popcorn to stuff it into his face. That way he doesn’t have to respond to the comment.

“I am excited to spend the evening with you and Iwaizumi.” Ushijima continues, angling the tub to make Oikawa’s pursuit for snacks easier, “Even though the movie is not something I would watch on my own.”

“And, what _are_ the movies you’d watch on your own?” Oikawa snaps, annoyed, hoping the conversation will end sooner rather than later.

“Good ones, of course.” Ushijima says blandly, and Iwaizumi lets out a loud sudden _laugh_ behind him.

“ _Iwa-chan!”_ Oikawa cries, feeling scandalized and sitting up to be able to look at Iwaizumi, “Don’t act like you _agree_ with him.”

“Oikawa your taste in movies is objectively garbage.” Iwaizumi states easily, watching Oikawa pout at him, “But that’s not saying I don’t enjoy the crap out of them too.”

“ _Our_ taste in movies.” Oikawa insists, leaning forward so Iwaizumi can definitely see how clearly upset he is with him. In the process he has to lean into Ushijima, feels his arm press against his side. Is hyperaware of his presence but decides not to shrink away.

Iwaizumi laughs again, lighter, airier, “Yeah, alright. I’ll give you that.”

The lights dim further, and the three teens flick their gazes back at the screen as they finally settle into the movie. And Ushijima finds himself thinking, as the opening credits start to roll, if he’ll ever be able to share in that _our_.

With Oikawa.

And with Iwaizumi too, he supposes.

With the _both_ of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we go!!!
> 
> i cant stop writing this story tbh
> 
> everyones reviews are so kind!!! i'm glad people are enjoying this story!!!!
> 
> you can also bother me on my tumblr at findingschmomo.tumblr.com
> 
> see you next time


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels light, so light, too light.

Iwaizumi looks up as Oikawa barges into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and throwing a paper bag at his face. Iwaizumi has quick reflexes though, sitting up on his bed and catching the bag in the air. Oikawa doesn’t spare the feat a glance, falling into Iwaizumi’s desk chair, pulling his legs up to his chest and digging into his own paper bag. He takes out a milkbread, nibbling at it as he slowly spins in place.

Iwaizumi looks inside his own bag and pulls out an identical milkbread, frowning, “You know I hate milkbread.”

“It’s punishment.” Oikawa says around his pastry, tilting his head back to look at Iwaizumi as his chair spins.

“Punishment?” Iwaizumi repeats with a raised brow, “For what?”

“For forcing me to sit next to Ushiwaka-chan last night at the movies.” Oikawa snaps, easily.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “You _invited_ him.” He reminds, dropping his milkbread back into the bag, “Isn’t your presence in my life punishment enough?”

“You love me.” Oikawa huffs, his face not visible because his chair is turned the other way.

 _More than you’ll ever know_ , Iwaizumi thinks.

“You had fun. Admit it.” Iwaizumi continues, forcing away the thought and the pang in his chest. He crawls to the end of his bed, sitting so his legs dangle over the edge. He reaches over, taking one of the arms of the desk chair and spinning Oikawa around to face him. He’s pouting at him around his treat.

“I did _not_.” Oikawa mutters, sinking further into his chair.

Iwaizumi smirks knowingly at him, “You loved the movie. And you loved discovering Ushiwaka can’t handle jump scares.”

A smile flits across Oikawa’s face, “It’s so funny to see him jump.” Oikawa admits, a giggle tickling his speech, “And seeing his face not change at all.” Iwaizumi laughs a little, melodic and sincere. Oikawa feels his smile grow bigger, “So I guess he’s not all bad.”

Iwaizumi’s green eyes seem to brighten a little, “Yeah, he really isn’t.”

It hurts Oikawa, to see the care in Iwaizumi’s eyes for someone else. To know he may not be number one in his best friends heart for much longer. It hurts more than he can bear.

_Don’t be a dick._

_I have to be supportive_.

“We should invite him to more things....I guess...” He says, awkwardly, taking another bite of his milkbread to keep his mouth occupied.

Iwaizumi looks surprised, something dark flitting through his eyes before they return to their natural gleam, nodding, “Yeah, yeah...that’d be nice.”

Oikawa finishes his milkbread, almost chokes on it, because the burn in his throat would be better than the one in his eyes.

Iwaizumi breaks the silence, voice soft, “You’re a mess...”

Oikawa, for a moment, fears Iwaizumi’s figured him out completely.

But he relaxes as Iwaizumi simply reaches forward, letting his thumb brush away crumbs from the corner of his lip. Oikawa hums, leaning into the touch, and finds Iwaizumi’s fingers lingering on him.

And Oikawa gets an idea.

A truly wicked, selfish idea.

“Iwa-chan,” He breathes, blinking his eyes up at Iwaizumi’s face, “You’ve never kissed a boy have you?”

Iwaizumi’s hand goes rigid against him, face heating up spectacularly in front of him. Oikawa drinks it in, drowns in it, _loves_ it. “Of co-course not.” He stammers out, with a lot of difficulty, “Have you?”

“No.” Oikawa says easily, tilting his head a little, hooding his eyes, “But I’ve kissed plenty of girls.”

Iwaizumi looks uncomfortable, eyes unable to focus on Oikawa’s face. He tries to take his hand back, but Oikawa’s own comes up to hold his wrist, keeping it there.

Iwaizumi blinks at him, green eyes confused, questioning.

Words ring in Oikawa’s ears, _don’t be a dick._

“Do you want to try?” He says, deviously. Enough so he can play it off as a joke if he’s refused. When he’s refused.

Iwaizumi gapes at him, face red, red and growing redder. Oikawa’s mind start reeling, searching for excuses to make. Anything to keep Iwaizumi from hating him for doing this.

But instead, Iwaizumi is the one that gives him an out, “What about Ushiwaka?” He asks the question quietly, like a whisper, like if he said it any louder the rival spiker might hear him. His green eyes are conflicted and glassy.

Glassy like the shards striking into Oikawa’s heart, ripping it into shreds, the remnants catching on his ribs as they fall to his gut. He swallows, hand squeezing reflexively around Iwaizumi’s wrist. Bile rises in his throat, and a new sense of urgency stings his insides along with it.

 _I don’t want to lose you_.

“Exactly,” He spits out, plastering on a bright smile, “This is just for practice!”

He regrets the words as they spill from his lips. Oikawa Tooru has always known he’s had a penchant for misdeeds, but this was a bit much for him. Manipulative, cruel, uncaring. He shouldn’t do this. It’s not fair to Iwaizumi, to his blooming relationship, to his _first_ relationship. It’s not even fair to Ushijima. 

But Oikawa is selfish at heart, and the words reverberate in his chest, _don’t leave me behind_.

“Practice.” Iwaizumi echoes, slowly, mouth working around the word as his mind works around its meaning. His eyes lock back on to Oikawa’s, and there’s a hint of understanding, acceptance, _relief,_ within those green swirls.

Oikawa isn’t sure what to make of it.

“For practice.” Iwaizumi repeats, determination crowding along the edges of the phrase as his eyebrows quirk down.

“For practice.” Oikawa agrees, leaning closer.

It surprises him, when Iwaizumi kisses him first, as if spurned by this agreement. He presses his lips to his, tense but earnest, eyes squeezed shut for fear of what they’d see. Oikawa, leans forward, takes the lead, moving his lips with a certain sense of confidence.

He eases Iwaizumi into it, helping him open his mouth to deepen the kiss, tilting his head to the side. Iwaizumi’s hand practically clutches at Oikawa’s face, and Oikawa’s own grip on his wrist is tight and desperate. But there’s something bitter in the kiss, something dark and sickly, that turns their tongues to lead and pulls them apart.

They open their eyes and look at their red faces, and there’s shame in each other’s eyes, of knowing the’ve done something wrong. There’s no sort of revelry. No angels singing. No bright light.

 _Our first kiss_.

 _It wasn't supposed to be like this_ , Oikawa thinks.

( _It wasn't supposed to be like this,_ Iwaizumi thinks.)

It hurts Iwaizumi more, because he’s always been one to stick firmly to the good and lawful path. His eyes look to the side, he seems conflicted, regretful, “Ushi-“

Oikawa smiles, bright and forced, “Just for practice! You don’t have to worry.” He insists, pulling away completely, letting go of Iwaizumi as if the entire experience was nothing. As if he felt nothing.

As if everything was nothing.

Iwaizumi stares at the empty space in front of him, eyes lost, for a long time, before he manages to move his eyes to Oikawa, standing up above him.

“I just remembered,” Oikawa starts, turning away, “I have to help my mom with dinner.”

Iwaizumi watches silently as Oikawa leaves him room, lying back down on his bed and staring at the air above him. He blinks a few times, as if that will clear his dizzying mind, or calm his flipping stomach. But it doesn’t. He bites his lip, glaring at the minuscule dots and imperfections of his white ceiling, hands fisting at his sides.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He shouldn’t have given in so easily to Oikawa’s teasing, shouldn’t have jumped at the chance to _practice_. What good is it but to toy with his own feelings?

He brings a hand up to his face, covering his eyes, finding comfort in the darkness it brings.

But it’s not enough. Because now his thoughts follow a different path, the one that leads to Ushijima’s trusting gaze, patient silence and unwavering reverence. And he feels bile in his mouth, burning his throat hot enough to bring tears to his eyes.

There’s a sudden need in his chest, an anguished burn, holding him hostage.

He sits up.

 _I have to tell him_.

Iwaizumi doesn’t walk out his door, he _runs_.

* * *

**> OIKAWA <3 USHIJIMA<**

**> Hanamaki Takahiro: **how was the movie yesterday boss

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i dont want to talk about it

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **what happened

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i think Iwa-chan hates me

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **well yeah whats knew

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **im being serious

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **did u call him short again

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i did something terrible

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i don’t know how to fix it

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **???

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **Apologize?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **...

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i guess

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **probs a good first step

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **u gonna tell us how u fucked up or...?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **maybe someday

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **dont be such a tease

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **u know we live for drama

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **thats why I refuse to tell you

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **dang it. must be juicy

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **:P

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **go apologize to iwaizumi. its no fun when ur both fighting

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I don’t think it’s him I have to apologize to

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **do you guys know Ushiwaka-chan’s address?

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **Holy Shit

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **you got beef with satan himself?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **well do u know it or what?

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **9th Ring, Burning Fire Pit, Hell, 10666

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **nice

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **u guys are useless

* * *

Ushijima lives in a secluded neighborhood, far in the suburbs of the old part of town. His lawn is lush and green and his backyard feeds into an ancient mountain that his grandmother had always assured him was full of spirits. His home is old and traditional, and hosts large family gatherings every year.

Ushijima has always enjoyed these gatherings. Seeing his numerous cousins, aunties and uncles visit his quiet home fills him with a sense of purpose. He is the eldest of the new generation, the apple of the family’s eye with his list of accomplishments, and he takes this title with a great deal of responsibility and pride.

Being an only child can be lonely at times, because family means the world to him. But in those gatherings he can find his grounding, his foundation, shake off the confusion in him and realize the things that matter most.

And being an only child, with a lack of skill in relationships, platonic or otherwise, it is one of the few times in which Ushijima is able to host others in his home.

So when Iwaizumi pounds on his door Sunday in the late afternoon, Ushijima is surprised and uncomfortable. As if the confusion of the outdoor world is trying to sneak its way into the safety and comfortability of his sacred home.

Still, he does not want to be rude, so he opens the door, “Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi looks red in the face, panting, keeping his face low to the ground, “Sorry, for, for bothering you.”

Ushijima squints at him, frown natural on his face, “What is going on?”

“I just,” Iwaizumi straightens up, but he keeps his gaze away, “I just need to talk to you.”

Ushijima hesitates before taking a step to the side, inviting Iwaizumi into his home. Iwaizumi takes the invitation easily, obliviously, slipping off his shoes without comment.

Ushijima closes the door after him, locking it out of habit before turning to Iwaizumi slowly, “We can sit in the living room.” He decides, leading into the simple room. The furniture in it is as old as the house, freshly dusted and polished. The newest thing is a TV tucked into the corner, but even that is boxy and outdated.

Iwaizumi sits down on a cushion in the floor, preparing himself, “I did...I fucked up. Today. Earlier.”

Ushijima furrows his brows, sitting down across from Iwaizumi, unsure how to respond.

“Look, I,” Iwaizumi sighs, hands running through his hair as he grits his teeth. He’s never been good with words. That was always Oikawa’s forte. So he blurts it out in one fell swoop, ripping it off like a bandaid, “Oikawa and I kissed.”

Ushijima’s stare is blank. His face expressionless and dull. But something churns in his chest and he’s not a fan of it. He swallows, trying to push it down, before speaking up, “Oh. I see.”

Iwaizumi squints his eyes at him, frowning, “What do you mean ‘I see’? Aren’t you pissed?”

“I,” Ushijima pauses, closing his mouth. He’s not sure how he feels. Upset? Angry? Sad? Envious? It’s everything and nothing at once and it chills him. “I don’t know.”

“You should be pissed. You should yell at me. I fucked up.” Iwaizumi insists, fingers digging into the wooden table..

“But,” Ushijima finds himself defending, disliking the sudden self-deprecation in Iwaizumi’s tone. It’s more than dislike. He actively hates it and needs to quell it more than anything else, “Oikawa and I are not in a relationship. You have done nothing wrong.”

Iwaizumi looks lost, “But I _betrayed_ your trust! I know how _you_ feel!”

“You can not control how Oikawa feels.” Ushijma murmurs. You can not control anything about Oikawa Toouru. He is an unpredictable force of nature, manipulative and beautiful and sly, who teases but remains just out of reach and comprehension.

Iwaizumi stares at him, “Wait, no, listen, we kissed but it’s not. It’s not because Oikawa likes me.”

Ushijima’s brows furrow once more, and he feels a headache burrowing into his temple above his left eye, “I don’t understand.”

“He said,” Iwaizumi starts, “He said he wanted to practice. That’s why, that’s why we kissed.”

“Oh.” Ushijima nods, slowly, fingers coming up to press against the growing pain in his face, “Then, I, I fail to see the issue.”

Iwaizumi gapes at him, “I kissed the guy you like and you’re ok with that?”

“It was for practice? So there are no feelings involved correct?”

Iwaizumi forces himself to nod, squeezing his hands into fists at his side. _Lying_.

“Then it is no different than what we have been doing. So I do not see the harm in it.”

Something stings at Iwaizumi’s chest, as if a rib shifted in place and punctured his heart, at hearing Ushijima say so easily that the time they’ve spent together holds no meaning. But why should it hurt?

He doesn’t like Ushijima.

Iwaizumi’s fingers dig into the hardwood.

He doesn’t like Ushijima.

“In fact, it seems, smart in a way.” Ushijima continues, for reasons beside himself. He is not normally one to keep talking, to fill the air with meaningless words. But there is something broken in Iwaizumi’s expression, and it tears at him in ways he does not expect. But he’s not sure how to fix it, “To practice kissing.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, reeling in the onset of deja vu.

“I have never kissed anyone before.” Ushijima admits, easily, with no sense of shame. Iwaizumi swallows, face reddening, and hands starting to get a bit to sweaty.

But it’s too much. The air is hot and musty in the old house, the tension thick, and Iwaizumi’s handled too much emotional stress the past few hours to not release it. And so he laughs, loud and sudden at the statement. It’s not a happy laugh, but more an exhale of all his frustrations.

“This is, this is _so_ _absurd_.” He cries into the air, hands pressing into his eyes, “Like how is any of this even happening?”

Ushijima frowns, taken aback by the outburst, “I am sorry. I spoke out of turn. I,”

“No,” Iwaizumi quickly barks, leaning forward, “No, don’t apologize! It’s nothing. Look, I just, a lot of stuffs been going on.”

“Are you alright?” Ushijima asks, sincerely, eyes focused intently on Iwaizumi’s face. And Iwaizumi swallows, blush creeping up his neck. His heart starts beating a bit faster.

“Honestly?” He breathes, and his voice is light and airy, because he’s lost all contact with the ground, and with any good sense, “I don’t even know anymore.”

“What would you like me to do?” Ushijima leans forward, voice gravely and edged with concern. His presence is so strong, so overbearing, and yet Iwaizumi finds himself leaning in.

“I’ll kiss you.” Iwaizumi decides, and he feels light, too light.

Ushijima looks surprised, eyes blinking, “For practice?”

Iwaizumi wants to laugh again, “Yeah, sure.”

And again Iwaizumi finds himself kissing a boy for the first time today, bridging the gap first and pressing their lips together. It’s very different. Ushijima is completely stiff beneath him, unsure, tense, and Iwaizumi feels incredibly light.

He leads the way this time, urging Ushijima to follow, and the other teen listens, slowly, carefully, following the ministrations with a certain clunky precision that is not all together pleasurable, but incredibly endearing.

The kiss is short though, because there’s a loud knock that reverberates between them pulling them apart.

“I will get that.”Ushijima says, springing to stand up in one quick movement. Iwaizumi laughs, breezy, and stands up to follow him. It’s about time he went home anyway.

But then Ushijima stops, eyes glancing back to Iwaizumi, and his voice is a harsh whisper, “It is Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi suddenly falls straight back down to earth, dread constricting his stomach and widening his eyes.

 _Fuck_.

* * *

“Oikawa.”

It’s one word. His name. But it’s spoke with such intensity, anxiety and suspicion, that Oikawa is lost in it for a moment. He’s shocked to find Ushijima before him, even though _he’s_ the one knocking on his door.

“Ushiwaka-chan.” Oikawa quickly greets, forcing on a tight smile.

Ushijima continues to stare at him, his hand gripping the wooden edge of his door tightly. Oikawa waits a beat before letting his head tilt, “Are you going to let me in?”

Ushijima looks almost startled, head whipping back into his house. Oikawa can hear footsteps from within the home, hurried and distant, but he assumes it must be Ushijima’s family.

He realizes, then, that Ushijima must have a family. Because he’s a _person_ , who _exists_ , outside the court. It winds him, but he recovers, stepping into the home as the spiker makes room for him.

Oikawa steps out of his shoes silently, eyes taking in the old wooden walls of the traditional home, noticing all the little details etched in every corner.

And then he freezes, eyes catching on a familiar pair of sneakers sitting neatly by the doorway. He blinks, squinting his eyes at them.

Iwaizumi has the same exact pair.

Ushijima’s hand wraps around his wrist pulling him up, “We can talk in the living room.” He says quickly, too quickly.

Oikawa bristles at being manhandled, but he keeps his gaze on the shoes as he’s forced into another room.

He’s not a fool.

Iwaizumi is here.

He tugs his arm free, giving Ushijima a scowl at the treatment.

He sits down on one of the cushions and waits for Ushijima to do the same across from him. The teen looks on edge, eyes forcefully boring into Oikawa’s own, as if he needs the distraction. Iwaizumi still has not told him about their relationship, and since he’s hiding in the home, it’s clear he isn’t ready to do so.

It hurts Oikawa, that Iwaizumi would keep this from him, that he thinks their bond weak enough to be damaged by something like this. It isn’t. But Oikawa will give Iwaizumi his space.

He’s not a fool, but he can play one.

He smiles at Ushijima, easing his shoulders as if there’s nothing suspicious in the house. Ushijima speaks up first, voice clipped, “Why are you here?”

It’s so rude. Oikawa feels his eye twitch. Here he is, being on his _best_ behavior, and Ushiijima is acting like an ass. “I came to,” And Oikawa has to take a deep breath, reign in his mounting disgust, to voice it all, “I came to apologize.”

(Around the corner, hidden by the wall, Iwaizumi almost _chokes._ )

“Apologize?” Ushijima repeats.

Oikawa nods, “I kissed Iwa-chan earlier today. I goaded him on and I shouldn’t have. Don’t blame him for it.”

Ushijima stares at him, but he responds quickly enough with a shrug of his shoulders, a forced nonchalance, “That’s fine. It means we are on an even playing field now.”

“What?” Oikawa asks, eyebrows furrowing. He had not expected this.

“I, too, have kissed Iwaizumi.”

“You’ve _what_?” Oikawa can’t help but roar, hair bristling.

(Around the corner, hidden by the wall, Iwaizumi holds his burning face in his hands.)

“So it is fine.” Ushijima continues, “Although, I very much appreciate your honesty. And the fact that you considered my feelings at all. It warms me to know you care about me.”

Oikawa feels his face turn scarlet, sputtering out a denial that should have been a cool, calm, smart retort, but comes out as a stuttered, “Sh-Shut up.”

There’s a tug on Ushijima’s lips and Oikawa grits his teeth. _Fuck you_ , he thinks.

“Whatever,” He quickly snaps, standing up, “That’s all I wanted to say. I’m leaving.”

“Thank you for stopping by.” Ushijima nods easily, standing up to help him to the door, not insisting he stay any longer.

As they reach the door, Oikawa can’t help how his eyes look back at the worn out sneakers that Iwaizumi’s owned for the past year. He would recognize them anywhere. He feels a clench in his heart as he looks back at Ushijima’s face. He bites his lip, “You better, you better treat him right, you hear?” Oikawa finds himself saying, quietly, eyes fierce but watery.

Ushijima nods deeply at this, “I would never wish harm on Iwaizumi.” He says, “I know how much he means to you.”

Oikawa turns away quickly, fingers digging into his pockets and shoulders hunching forward to hide how his blush burns all the way down to his neck. He doesn’t even say anything, forcing a chopped wave before escaping out the door.

(Around the corner, hidden by the wall, Iwaizumi hears nothing, but he sees how flushed Oikawa is by mere seconds in Ushijima’s presence, and he feels like he’s sinking.)

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima states, firm and resolute as he turns to the hiding teen once Oikawa has left his home. There’s a new sense of confidence and purpose in his eyes, reinvigorated by the short-- _too short_ \--meeting, “I believe it’s time I give Oikawa my letter.”

Iwaizumi swallows, and a part of him begs to protest, to delay the inevitable, if only a bit longer. But he knows its wrong. And its not fair to Ushijima. So he takes a breath and looks into Ushijima’s eyes just as strongly, “You’re right. I’ll give you an opening. Tomorrow.”

The air seems electric as they look at each other, “I promise.” Iwaizumi adds, and finds he can no longer look Ushijima in the eye.

But neither can Ushijima.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all better feel blessed that you're getting updates so fast. 
> 
> i like cant stop writing this stuff??? its crazy
> 
> your reviews really do fuel me onwards!!! you guys are too nice to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> see you next time


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But in the aftermath of reality, Oikawa is left standing alone, smaller than ever.

The journey home from Ushijima’s is slow and silent. It feels like there is static in Oikawa’s head, fuzzing the edges of his brain, making the world blurry and incomprehensible around him. His feet take him where he needs to go on auto-pilot. When he reaches his house he can’t bring himself to return his mother’s greeting. He simply trudges his way up the stairs to flop onto his bed. Numb.

Oikawa stares at the fading stars on his ceiling, wide awake, despite knowing morning practice is fast approaching. He stretches his arms out wide, palms up on the fabric of his bedsheets. He lies motionless, listening to the scrape of the tree branch by his window, and the soft rustle of wind against it.

Ushijima kissed Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi kissed Ushijima.

He feels his fingers twitch, but they do not clench. Tears bead at the corner of his eyes and he blinks slowly, letting them slip down the end of his face, tickling his ears. He takes in a breath through his nose, lets it fill him up before passing through his mouth in a long exhale.

There’s no anger in his thoughts.

There’s only acceptance.

Because he _loves_ Iwaizumi. And Ushijima, believe it or not, has proven himself to be a decent person. Maybe even a good person, Oikawa thinks with a sudden stirring in his chest.

They’re an item and it’s out in the open. Ushijima confessed it loud and clear, and Oikawa is sure Iwaizumi was around to hear it. Oikawa has to accept it now. There is no more room for pretend.

He thinks about Iwaizumi’s smile, brighter and more dazzling every day as he talks about Ushijima. The excitement in his green eyes. The lilt in his voice. Oikawa can’t help the tug at his own lips.

A few more tears escape him, unimpeded.

He turns, so he’s lying on his side, bringing his arms back close to his chest. He squeezes them tight, the pressure comforting against the gaping hole of his heart. A temporary relief.

He won’t stop them.

He won’t utter a single negative thing. He’ll encourage them. He’ll support them. He’ll be the best damn wingman this world has ever known. He’ll do everything he can to keep Iwaizumi smiling so brightly.

No more selfishness. No more sleazy manipulation. 

 _I’m not going to ruin this for you_.

He pretends it doesn’t kill him.

* * *

**> OIKAWA <3 USHIJIMA<**

**> Hanamaki Takahiro: **any updates on the newest item in miyagi

> **Oikawa Tooru:** They’re so in love

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **gross

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **It’s a good thing Ushiwaka goes to shiratorizawa

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **or else we’d have to get another PDA jar

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **that was the dumbest thing you ever did

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **listen u and iwaizumi need to not touch each other for five seconds

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **u guys are a terrible influence on the children

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **yeah u practically ruined yahaba

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **don’t you dare talk shit about yahaba

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **hes a good boy

> **Hanamaki Takahiro:** yes yeswe all know he’s your favorite

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro**: doesnt change the fact him and kyouken were disgusting the first few weeks they started dating and it was your fault

 **> Matuskawa Issei: **#BringBackThePDAJar2k16

 **> Oikawa Tooru:** yahaba isnt my favorite!!

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **I don’t have favorites c:

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **apologies i forgot

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **iwa-chan is your favorite <3

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **stop that

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **he’s dating someone now

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **what does that have to do with anything

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i have to go

* * *

 

“ _Oikawa_.”

Oikawa lifts his head up from his phone, finding Iwaizumi squinting down at him from where he’s standing. A brief glance around shows that class must have ended, the space clear of students. Funny, he hadn’t heard the bell through the fog of his mind.

Ever since last night, he’s felt as if he’s underwater, the world around him warped and muffled. Unable to be navigated, slowing his movements, his understandings. He wonders if he’s drowning.

“Huh?” Oikawa asks, innocently, batting his eyelashes for good measure. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, taking Oikawa’s upper arm and hauling him out of his desk chair, out of the flood of his mind.

“Stop texting in class all the time.” Iwaizumi mutters.

“Iwa-chan doesn’t complain when I’m texting _him_ in class.” Oikawa says aloud, with another flutter of eyelashes. It sounds a bit forced though, distracted. He can’t focus. Hasn’t been able to focus on anythingbut one thing.

His eyes can’t help flicking to Iwaizumi lips. Brief. But telling. He looks back into green eyes.

Iwaizumi glares at him, face a bit hot, “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.” He snaps, “Don’t make me regret that decision with your shit personality.”

Oikawa giggles, high pitched, teeth gritted. He pockets his phone, “But Iwa-chan, I know you lo-,” Something catches in Oikawa’s throat, and he chokes on the words. He brings his hand up to cover his mouth, coughing into it.

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows knit together, a hand coming up to rest on Oikawa’s back soothingly. It’s not. Oikawa is hyperaware of it and he coughs again, “Hey, you ok?” Iwaizumi asks, eyes flashing with concern, anger peeled away to reveal what had always been there, beneath. Worry.

Oikawa shrugs him off, swallowing, “I’m fine, Iwa-chan!” He insists cheerily, giving off a radiant smile, teeth clenched and eyes a bit too wide.

Iwaizumi doesn’t look impressed, has never been impressed, by Oikawa’s attempts to lie. He moves closer instead, hand reaching out instinctively to touch him, to _connect_. Oikawa feels his heart rate accelerate, finds himself practically jumping away from the hand, “Don’t!” He orders, reeling back before he can compose himself.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Iwaizumi breathes, freezing in his tracks, “Did you hit your head or something?” And he may be joking, but Oikawa can tell the rising panic laced in his words. _Why are you keeping me away?_

Oikawa licks his lips, takes a quick breath and steels himself, “Iwa-chan, it’s time we be a bit more conscious of these things.” He tries to make it sound airy, but his voice cracks by the end of it, his smile twisting into a grimace.

“Things?” Iwaizumi repeats, eyes squinting further. He’s still frozen in place, as if he’s too afraid to move.

“You know,” Oikawa starts, hands swirling in the air trying to grasp the meaning of his words, “Us being so, so...” He looks away, unable to finish his sentence because he’s biting his lip, hard.

Iwaizumi looks taken aback, _hurt_ even. And Oikawa feels his fingernails dig into his palms, and his eyes keep dancing around the room, dying in the silence of it all.

“Think of Ushiwaka-chan!” He adds, his voice rising into an almost shriek like quality as he attempts to back up his argument. How can Iwaizumi not get what he’s saying?

Iwaizumi looks down, eyebrows furrowed.

Oikawa feels his face flush a little, hands fidgeting on the sleeves of his blazer, “What, it only, it only makes sense, what with you...”

Iwaizumi suddenly seems to be standing straighter, eyes guarded, “Yeah, I guess, I guess you’re right.”

There’s a space between them, smaller than the empty seat in the theater, but infinitely wider.

“Especially, after, after what happened,” Oikawa starts, but his throat feels too dry to continue. Because they hadn’t talked about it and they _need_ to talk about it. But the words might cut up his raw throat, leaving him open and bleeding.

Iwaizumi interrupts him, “I’m sorry. For yesterday. For kissing you. I shouldn’t have.”

Oikawa lurches forward, but Iwaizumi takes a step back in tandem, and so they’re no closer to each other, “It was my fault Iwa-chan! I’m the one who, who suggested it.” Oikawa reasons, because Iwaizumi is good, so good, and deserves to know that he is. It is Oikawa who is bad, who is cruel, who makes the mistakes.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “But I should have known better.”

Oikawa feels knots in his stomach, wonders if it’s his intestines tangling, wonders if he’ll die from the pain in his gut. He wants to tell Iwaizumi he’s wrong, that _Oikawa_ should have known better. But he doesn’t. Because Iwaizumi is already walking away.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Oikawa used to fantasize how his first kiss with Iwaizumi would turn out, how they would laugh and clutch at each other, smiling and happy and _in love_. But in the aftermath of reality, Oikawa is left standing alone, smaller than ever.

Iwaizumi pauses in the doorway, hand clutching the side of the doorway. He looks resigned, lost in thought, shoulders sagging slightly. He looks toward Oikawa, gaze seeming to flow through him, “Oh, uh, Ushiwaka is meeting up with us after school today.” He says it quietly.

Oikawa nods, numbly.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

* * *

 

**> OIKAWA <3 USHIJIMA<**

**> Matsukawa Issei: **are u and iwaizumi still fighting

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** didnt u apologize and stuff

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **we’re not fighting

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **explain how u havent looked at each other directly since third period ended

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **why is me not looking at iwa-chan after three hours newsworthy

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **because YOU not looking at iwaizumi after 10 minutes IS newsworthy

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **no it isnt!!!

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **and iwaizumi not looking at you every 2 seconds is even more concerning

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **he does not!!!

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **so whats the deal

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **iwa chan is probably thinking of ushiwaka is all

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **real talk

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **Are you holding up ok?

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **y wouldn’t i be

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **silly makki-chan

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **its not nice to lie to your friends Oikawa

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **friends? :o

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i thought I was being haunted by demons this whole time~

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **i’m being serious

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **note the use of the term “real talk”

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **^^^

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i’m fine

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **Oikawa

 **> Oikawa Tooru: **i’m fine

* * *

Ushijima takes a deep breath, trying to center, to focus. He’s not used to being nervous, to having anxiety swirl in his stomach. His rigid unerring confidence keeps him from ever succumbing to such feelings, on the court or outside of it. But here, in this situation, he finds himself full of doubt.

But like an ancient rock, embedded deep in the ground, keeping him steady, Iwaizumi smiles at him encouragingly. His hand rests on Ushijima’s upper arm, and it burns him through the fabric of his sleeves. It’s not actually helping his nerves at all. But he doesn’t feel like telling Iwaizumi to stop.

“You’re gonna do great.” Iwaizumi insists, but Ushijima can’t help hearing the slight waiver in his voice, the sadness tinging his green eyes. Something’s twisted in him, it’s clear (because Iwaizumi’s eyes are _always_ clear). But Ushijima is unable to decipher it. He has never been good at decoding facial expressions on people outside the obvious.

He takes another breath, “And if he says no?” Ushijima asks, fingers clenching at the thought.

Iwaizumi licks his lips, looking away. His hand leaves him and Ushijima feels cold. “Well, at least then, you know?” Iwaizumi offers, and Ushijima decides he does have a point. Anything is better than this anxious limbo. “But I’m sure he’ll say yes.” Iwaizumi adds. Although, he doesn’t look him in the eyes, mouth quirking downwards.

“I’m gonna go around the corner. I’ll come by when you’re done.” Iwaizumi continues, slapping Ushijima’s back, _hard._

It’s not enough to make the tall teen budge, but it is enough to calm him. He nods, eyes stern and focused, and he straightens himself. Ready for battle.

Iwaizumi grins at him, slipping away and out of a sight with one last thumbs up. 

Ushijima watches him go, eyes trained on the empty spot for a long time. His gaze then flicks around the area. He’s under an overhang, a brief shelter in case of rain, near Aoba Johsai. There’s a bike rack beside him, empty. It’s not the most romantic spot, he admits, but he’s not very familiar with the Aoba Johsai grounds. Theres a vine that grows along one of the columns, and it fills him with a certain sense of courage; seeing it fight its way up in these harsh growing conditions.

The scenery wasn’t important. What was important was that Oikawa would meet him here without any misgivings. Would give him a chance. Would listen to him in this slightly secluded spot, and maybe even say yes to him. Ushijima feels his fingers clench around the paper in his hands at the thought. He looks back over to where he presumes Iwaizumi is hiding and feels calmer.

Ushijima waits five more minutes before Oikawa comes prancing his way, giving a quick wave and looking around. _Most likely searching for Iwaizumi,_ Ushijima thinks. Which is silly. Because of course he would be, when the text was sent by Iwaizumi to have everyone meet up here. And yet he can’t help the bitter taste the thought leaves in his mouth. He swallows it down.

He turns toward Oikawa, facing him directly.

Oikawa raising an eyebrow, “What?” He says, pursing his lips at Ushijima’s piercing stare. It’s intense (like everything about Ushijima) and even Oikawa, who loves the spotlight, feels its a bit too hot under the sudden glare.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima starts, voice thick. He bows his head, sweaty hands pulling out the red confession letter from his bag, “I, I have feelings for you.” He swallows again, keeping his gaze on Oikawa’s feet, “Please read this.” He finishes, handing over the card.

He sees Oikawa’s hands take the letter numbly. Ushijima sucks in a breath before standing back to his full height. Ready.

Oikawa looks shocked. Eyes blow wide, eyebrows hidden in his bangs, staring up at him in disbelief. His mouth is parted, white teeth peeking out from his lips.

And in a flash Ushijima sees the eyebrows shoot down, mouth slicing open to reveal twisted, gritted teeth, but Ushijima doesn’t even have time to process the change before his face is on fire.

His cheek is stinging, head forced to the side from the power of Oikawa’s sudden slap.

Ushijima’s mouth falls open and he’s stuck looking in the direction he now faces, because he can’t move.

He can see Oikawa shaking in his peripheral vision, shaking in utter fury. The letter crumples in his hands, just like Ushijima’s heart does in his chest.

“How _dare_ you.” Oikawa seethes, voice low and dark, eyes full of a sinister rage. One filled with disgust and hatred, that Ushijima, although the source of Oikawa’s ire most of the time, has never seen. “How could you do this to him?” Oikawa’s voice is venom, and it seeps through the wound in Ushijima’s face, bleeding into his veins, making him cold.

He finally brings his face back to look at Oikawa directly, though his eyes find Oikawa’s ear easier to focus on then his furious face.

“I was actually starting to think you were ok.” Oikawa spits out bitterly, “but this is low, even for you.”

And then he rips the letter in half, still in its envelope, letting the pieces fall to the dirty ground. Ushijima’s hands dart out to catch them but he stops himself. Because it’s pointless.

It’s all been so pointless.

Oikawa seems like he has more to say, but Ushijima doesn’t want to hear it. Can’t bear to hear it. He bows again, “You have made your feelings clear. I am sorry for wasting your time.” He says mechanically, eyes unfocused and oddly blurry. He turns, walking briskly away, away, _away._

Oikawa watches him go _seething_ , thinking about Ushijima going behind Iwaizumi’s back, betraying Iwaizumi, trying to convince Oikawa to betray Iwaizumi along with him. Rage courses through every fiber of his being, stronger than any time in his life and he feels it surge in him. He takes a step to follow the man, to keep him from running away, to shout him down and destroy him for even _thinking_ Oikawa would do such a horrid, horrid thing.

But a hand on his arm pulls him back around.

And he’s face to face with Iwaizumi.

An incredibly angry Iwaizumi.

Oikawa stares at him in shock.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Iwaizumi snaps.

“Ushijima confessed to me! The bastard!” Oikawa shouts back. _Ushijima_ _confessed to me_ , he repeats in his head, the realization starting to sink in. _Ushijima likes me?_

“Yeah, and you _slapped him_?” Iwaizumi continues, unfazed, breezing past the life altering moment. And the fact that it was an ultimate betrayal. Is Iwaizumi so blinded by his love to allow such transgressions? That’s insane!

“Of course I slapped him! Why wouldn’t I slap him?” Oikawa retorts, threading his eyebrows together, “He confessed. _To me_.”

“You know, I always knew you were an asshole. But I didn’t know you were _this much of an asshole_.” Iwaizumi growls, his fury poisoning his tone until it sounds almost bland, uncaring.

“What?” Oikawa questions, because how in the hell is Iwaizumi painting _him_ like a bad guy when Ushijima is the one betraying him?

“You could have at least heard him out. Fuck, do you really not think about other people’s feelings at all?” It’s like Iwaizumi isn’t even listening to him, and it feels like Oikawa has slipped under the tide again, and he’s drowning at sea, “Fuck you Oikawa, that was fucking low.”

“I don’t understand how you can be mad at me for this?” Oikawa cries, exasperated, searching into Iwaizumi’s furious expression for any kind of understanding. Any kind of helping hand to pull him back onto solid ground. Instead, he finds a brick wall that could rival even Dateko’s strongest block.

“You _ass_.” Iwaizumi hisses, “Well, fucking think about it. I’ll give you plenty of time to do so.”

Iwaizumi stomps off, pushing past Oikawa roughly, leaving him confused and angry and upset, “Where are you going?” Oikawa calls after him, taking a step toward him.

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer him.

“Iwa-chan! _Iwa-chan!_ ”

Iwaizumi disappears around the corner.

Oikawa stands there for a long moment, shell shocked. And then he brings his hands up to ruffle through his brown hair in frustration, letting out a growl under his breath. “What the _fuck_?” He curses lowly, pressing the heels of his palms into his leaking eyes.

He has no idea how to even _begin_ to understand what’s just transpired. And the one person in the world who would help him work it out has very clearly walked away.

“Fuck me.” Oikawa groans, wiping his face angrily. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He’s in public after all. No way he’ll break down here. When other people could see.

He turns to go home, taking a step and feeling his foot slip slightly from lack of traction. He’s stepping on red paper. Anger swirls in his gut once more, but he forces it down, crouching low. He picks up the torn pieces of the confession letter, glances in the direction the other teens had gone and squeezes his eyes shut.

When he straightens himself back up to his full height a few moments later, he’s brought his breathing back to normal, crafted his default smile, and pocketed two halves of a broken message in his back pocket.

He starts moving once more.

He’s not sure where he’s headed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! work is crazy man
> 
> hope y'all arent too upset LOL
> 
> see you next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In front of Oikawa, with the world burning around him, he had considered crying, if only to keep the little sprout from dying completely in the scorching heat.

**> Iwaizumi Hajime has initiated a conversation with Ushijima Wakatoshi<**

**> Iwaizumi Hajime: **Hey.

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **I don’t know if you use this account since your last post was two years ago but

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **Look, I just want to say that what Oikawa did was really shitty.

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **And if you want to talk about it I’m here.

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **u can message me or text me or call me

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime:** hell u can even show up at my door

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **just talk to me ok

* * *

Ushijima sets his phone down, letting the light dim on its own. He leans forward, elbows propped on the wooden desk in his bedroom, fingers idly rubbing the leaf of one of his little aloe plants. He would need to water it in a few days. He makes a mental note of it.

His other hand comes up to press against his cheek, hand balled up in a fist to let his head rest on it. But he stiffens, memory fresh and sore. He lifts his head up, letting his fingers dance along the skin. It’s no longer red, no longer stings, but the ghost of the hit still lingers.

Ushijima leans back in his desk chair, looking up at the ornate moldings that line his bedroom walls and touch his ceilings. They’re perfect, parallel lines running his room, curling up into intricate leaves in the corners. 

Ushijima thinks of Oikawa’s eyes. 

They were always brown, a deep, beautiful earthy brown, the color of fertile soil ready to foster life. Ushijima had always been drawn to them. How they simmered from beneath him whenever he proved himself superior on the court, always alight with some sort of spark that no foot could tamper down. 

That spark had caught fire today.The fury in Oikawa’s eyes combusting, hand flying out in a burning arc until it impacted, leaving embers in its wake. The force of it all had rocked Ushijima to his very core, had engulfed him in flames, so hot he became cold.

But that was not enough. Because the coldness made him numb, made him still, and he could do nothing but watch as the fire spread from his face down to his feet to the dirt beneath him. Could only watch as the sprout he’d tended to for years seized and withered under the cruel fiery conditions. Could only watch as it curled up, the heat unbearable, and crumbled to ash and dust.

The last time Ushijima had cried was in fourth grade, when he had twisted his foot suddenly while diving for a receive in gym. His father had come, from work, to see him, had told him to be strong, because he _was_ strong, strong like the great mountain behind their home, strong like his forefathers who had tended this land before him.

And Ushijima had wiped his eyes, taken a deep breath and nodded, and his father had smiled at him, ruffling his dark hair as he wrapped his ankle up tight. 

In front of Oikawa, with the world burning around him, he had considered crying, if only to keep the little sprout from dying completely in the scorching heat. 

But he had not. 

His phone lights up again, more messages from Iwaizumi being received, unanswered. 

Iwaizumi Hajime.

He picks up his phone to read through the messages, and something tugs at his burnt heart. Iwaizumi Hajime is concerned, Iwaizumi Hajime _cares_. He soothes, he listens, he _cares._

And Ushijima thinks about Iwaizumi, and the little seed they had planted in the earth between them, and wonders if being so deep underground, still fledgling and oh so new, had protected it from the fire that had scorched the top soil dry. 

Ushijima looks at his little aloe plant, growing stronger every day with it’s little tuft of green spiky leaves, poking out from the dirt and pebbles of its home. If they were black, they would look just like Iwaizumi’s hair. 

His mother’s voice calls to him from down the stairs. Dinner is ready. Ushijima is not hungry, but it would be rude not to go down and see his parents. So he gets up, lets his hand graze the plant softly one last time and leaves the phone behind. 

* * *

Oikawa spins in his desk chair lazily, legs hanging off one arm rest and back pressed against the other. He lets his head fall back, hair hanging down from gravity, leaving his forehead bare. He can see his display shelf, filled with DVDs and books, ranging from volleyball to sci-fi, to the occasional nature documentaries he’d gotten specifically to impress Iwaizumi.

He lets out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut and tries not to think about it. Tries not to think about anything. 

But that’s not how Oikawa Tooru’s mind _works_.

Because his mind is constantly churning within the confines of his head, anxiously working through every possible scenario, replaying every conversation, fiddling with every minor detail of the day. Analyzing every piece of information for a possible solution. He has never been able to turn it off.

He lets out a huff, guttural and annoyed, rhotacized at the edges to the point where it sounds almost growl-like. He sits up, swinging his legs around so he can sit on the chair properly. 

He rips through his bag, pulling out the shredded pieces of red paper he’d peeled from the dirty pavement hours before and lays them down on his desk. He moves them around deftly with his long fingers, sliding them along the wood as he works the puzzle together. 

Once he’s satisfied, he grabs the tape on top of his desk, carefully stitching the fragments back together. 

He squints at the mangled handwriting, ink having bled from all the violence, making it hard to read. He huffs again, rolling his chair toward his nightstand and grabbing his glasses. After slipping them on his face he returns to his desk and tries again. 

He reads:

_Dear Oikawa,_

_It has come to my attention that I have developed feelings for you. At first I believed it to be our mutual rivalry, but that can no longer explain my heart palpitations when I think of you, nor the fact you cling to my thoughts most hours of the day. I really do wish to spend more time with you, off the court and on. Graduation is on the horizon, so I hope you will give me a chance before we leave for university._

_Thank you for reading this,_

_Ushijima Wakatoshi_

Something twists in Oikawa’s gut, mangling his intestines and rocking his stomach. He wants to call it disgust but knows its not the right word. Guilt seems a better candidate, as much as he’s loathed to admit. But how can it be guilt when this is all some cruel joke?

He rubs his face with his hands. 

He’s so _confused_. 

He pulls his phone out again and calls Iwaizumi. 

It rings once before going to voicemail. 

Oikawa doesn’t leave one. 

He wants to rip the confession letter up again. More this time. Until the pieces are so tiny there is nothing salvageable left. Just red dust in the wind, easily blown away and lost forever. 

He doesn’t. He stares at it for a long while, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, glasses digging into his nose, and hands picking at the skin of his fingers. He doesn’t stop until his skin is reddened and sore, just like the rims of his eyes. 

He doesn’t know what to do.

* * *

Oikawa and Iwaizumi don’t speak to each other the next day. They don’t see each other in the morning. They don’t walk to school together. And no longer needing to go to practice, there is no excuse to interact. So they don’t.

It doesn’t stop Oikawa from looking at Iwaizumi when he doesn’t notice. 

(It doesn’t stop Iwaizumi from doing the same). 

By mid-week, Matsukawa and Hanamaki have had enough. The group chat has been silent on Oikawa’s end since Monday evening, and the pair are dying to know what the hell could have caused such a rift between the dynamic duo. Fights between Oikawa and Iwaizumi are common, but silence to this extent is unheard of. 

And so Matsukawa and Hanamaki decide to put it on themselves to figure out the entire mess. Iwaizumi and Oikawa not talking is like the Sun and Moon disappearing from the sky, leaving the day unbearably cold and the night miserably dark. It isn’t sustainable, for anyone. 

Oikawa’s silence on group chat is incredibly telling. Matsukawa and Hanamaki know they won’t be able to squeeze anything out of him now. Oikawa can be incredibly guarded when deeply upset. No, their first step needs to be interrogating Iwaizumi. 

They do this easily enough, ambushing him as he turns the corner at the gate after school. Matsukawa grabs him easily, hand covering his mouth as they duck back onto school grounds. Iwaizumi struggles in shock, until Hanamaki’s face pops up in front of him, finger to his lips and eye winking mischievously. Iwaizumi falls limp in Matsukawa’s arms, but his face glowers. 

They stay like that, silent and still for a moment. They watch as Oikawa makes his solitary way off the school grounds, fake smile carefully carved out on his face. Broad strides down the walk way, cheery waves at passing girls, teeth clenched behind it all. The trio watches until they can no longer make him out in the distance. 

When the coast is clear, Matsukawa releases Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi pulls away, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He levels the troublemakers a glare, “Do that again and I bite you.” He warns. 

Matsukawa smiles lazily. 

Hanamaki speaks up, “Well, hopefully we don’t need to do this again. We just have to settle everything right here.”

“Settle what?” Iwaizumi asks, slowly, eyes squinting. Gaze full of distrust, stance wide, bracing himself.

“What’s up with you and Oikawa?” Matsukawa delivers the first blow, blunt but powerful, striking Iwaizumi right in the chest. 

Iwaizumi’s shoulders curl up from the impact, scrunching up in a forced shrug, head downcast to glare at the ground. He’s silent, but Matsukawa and Hanamaki can be surprisingly patient when they mean too. They wait, crowding into Iwaizumi’s space, arms folded, faces stern. They’re not leaving without answers. 

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, “Oikawa’s a shithead and I’m mad at him. That’s all.”

“Is this produce spoiled? Cause I’m not buying it.” Hanamaki touts, hands on hips, leaning forward into Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi takes a step back, face glowering further. Hanamaki only smiles, silently reciprocating the soft fist-bump from Matsukawa for his sweet roast. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to straighten himself up to his full height. He’s still shorter than the both of them but it makes him feel a bit more confident,“I don’t have to tell you guys anything.”

“Not how this works.” Matsukawa informs quickly, “We’re friends so you have to tell us.”

Hanamaki draws a triangle in the air with the pointer fingers of his hands, “This is the Zone of Truth now. So fess up.” 

Iwaizumi looks away again, facing to the left, the direction home, the direction Oikawa had gone, “Why? It has nothing to do with you.”

“Wrong again.” Matsukawa counts off, as Hanamaki lets out a tsking noise in the background, “When half of your friend group is miserable it becomes our business.”

“I’m not miserable.” Iwaizumi lies, feeling his gut crumple a little in protest.

Hanamaki huffs, “Fine, Mr. Sunshine. But Oikawa’s barely holding it together with your sudden silent treatment.” He reminds, eyes squinting. 

Iwaizumi’s mouth is a firm line on his face. His hands fist at his sides, blunt finger nails pressing into his palms. His teeth grit in his mouth. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear what Oikawa’s going through. 

(He already knows.)

(How could he _not._ )

“Doesn’t it bother you how upset he is?” Matsukawa probes further. 

Iwaizumi looks down, eyes suddenly burning at the corners. And the words start climbing up his throat, bubbling up until they break through his gritted teeth,“Ushijima confessed to Oikawa.” He says quietly. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki gape at him before turning to look at each other. It’s not anything they had ever expected to hear. Not in any lifetime. 

“Holy shit.” Hanamaki breathes. 

“I’m so sorry.” Matsukawa whispers.

Iwaizumi ignores them, eyes still trained on the ground, “And then Oikawa _slapped_ him.”

“Good.” Matsukawa nods firmly, disgust coating the single word like poison on a dagger.

“Should have clocked him into next week.” Hanamaki adds, his tone cruel enough to slice through metal.

Iwaizumi flips his head up to look at them, “ _What_?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa pause, taken aback, “What do you mean, what?”

“You’re _agreeing_ with Oikawa’s shitty behavior?” Iwaizumi cries incredulously. Had he befriended a complete troupe of utter assholes? Well, he already knew that. But he didn’t realize that they were this breed of awful. 

Hanamaki furrows his brow, uncomprehending, “Of course? If your boyfriend went behind your back and confessed to me I’d kick his ass, are you kidding me?”

Iwaizumi feels his brain short circuit. 

All the synapses firing off into the void. He blinks once. Twice. Three times and nothing clears. He’s lost in the dark, and slowly his mouth works around the words, “My...boyfriend...?”

A realization dawns on Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s face, slow and horrified, “Oh my God.” They breathe at the same time, looking to each other with the mutual understanding that they have made a terrible, _terrible_ mistake. 

“Wait, you _are_ dating Ushijima, right?” Hanamaki asks, words falling out of his mouth as quickly as possible that they practically run into each other. 

Iwaizumi hears them loud and clear, reverberating within his ears. He flames up, “No! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

_Ushijima...as my boyfriend?_

“We saw you! Going on dates?” Hanamaki continues, defensively.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, his whole body turning red now, “Oh _fuck_.”

_Ushijima, my boyfriend._

“So you’re _not_ dating?” Matsukawa clarifies again, because they need to know, for sure.

“No. I was just...I was, I was helping him figure out how to ask Oikawa out.” Iwaizumi whispers, hands curling to hug his sides, suddenly feeling incredibly sick. _Ushijima, my boyfriend?_

“Oh _fuck._ ” Matsukawa hisses, bringing a hand to cover up his mouth. 

“Man, Oikawa thought you two were deep in love for the past two weeks now.” Hanamaki blurts out, hand running through his thin hair. 

Iwaizumi’s hands around himself grip tighter, arms digging into his stomach, as if it’ll ease the rocking in his gut. As if it’ll do anything to help the situation. 

So many thoughts fly through his brain, synapses reconnecting in a flurry as the messages hurl around within his brain. 

_Oikawa thinks Ushijima is my boyfriend._

_Oikawa was protecting my feelings._

_Oikawa hates Ushijima because of me._

_Ushijima is heartbroken because of me._

The world seems to spin, but there’s no time for that. No time for anything. Iwaizumi is already pulling out his phone, fingers desperately searching for his best friends number to try to fix this whole mess. He needs to talk to Oikawa. He needs to talk to him right now. 

But even as he presses the device to his ear, one thought keeps clinging to him, making him sick and sweaty. 

_Ushijima, my boyfriend._

* * *

Oikawa’s phone is off in his pocket. A deadweight he carries around. Matsukawa’s and Hanamaki’s messages the past few days had grown incessant, and since Iwaizumi refused to speak with him, there was not much point leaving it on anymore. He might as well preserve the battery.

His mind is far away from that though. He’d come to his own conclusions. He had horribly offended Iwaizumi in some way, so much so that his best friend had completely shut him out, and he needed to fix it. The only way he figured he could find a solution was to ask the only other person present, no matter how painfully awkward it would be. 

He would do anything for Iwaizumi. 

It’s that though that keeps him moving forward, gets him on the short bus ride to Ushijima’s neighborhood and carries his feet to the now familiar home by the mountain. It’s that thought that urges his hand to knock on the door in front of him.

As he waits on the wooden steps his hands squeeze the band around his shoulder that supports his bag. He shifts on his feet, fidgety as always. His mind races. A part of him hopes the door never opens, so he doesn’t have to face reality but can at least say he tried. He’s not granted any sort of reprieve. 

Ushijima opens the door. 

Oikawa stares at him.

Ushijima stares at him. 

Ushijima closes the door. 

“Wait!” Oikawa shouts, lurching forward, hand reaching out. He’s too late. The door has clicked shut. But that has never stopped him before. He starts knocking again, speaking through the room, “Ushiwaka-chan open the door!”

Oikawa can hear a sigh through the door, a sound he’s never really heard from Ushijima. It sounds almost like defeat. Normally Oikawa would be elated, but in this moment, he only feels his hand squeeze tighter around the band, pressed close to his chest. He takes a step back as the door opens. Ushijima slips through, closing the door softly behind him. Oikawa swallows. 

“Why are you here?” Ushijima asks, blunt as ever but his voice seems distant. 

Oikawa feels his throat go dry, standing parched, looking up at Ushijima’s closed off face. He feels his hands twitch as they drop to his sides, fingers squeezing into his palms until his nails bite into the skin. 

He can’t hold the gaze, looking to the side and gritting his teeth, “I came to...I came to apologize,” He forces out, “For hitting you.”

Ushijima doesn’t look relieved by the statement. In fact, he looks even more uncomfortable, eyes squinting further, chin raising up, taller. He’s so tall in this moment. Too high to reach. 

Oikawa feels as low as can be. 

“Look, don’t be so high and mighty.” He snaps, anger creeping into his voice, crossing his arms and nibbling at his lips, “I’m not the only one in the wrong here!” He insists, because he refuses to conceded completely, “You have to apologize to Iwa-chan!”

Ushijima’s face changes then, at the name, face opening up, mouth frowning further, eyebrows drawing together. His lips part, “Iwaizumi has nothing to do with this.”

“Iwa-chan has _everything_ to do with this!” Oikawa fires back, “It’s all about him. It’s always been about him!”

Ushijima closes his mouth, lips pressed tight, body erect again. Something flashes in his eyes, a sudden understanding. No, not understanding, but rather, acceptance for something he’d known all along. 

Iwaizumi is everything to Oikawa. 

_Which means there has never been room for Ushijima._

Ushijima takes this new feeling, pushes it with all the others he’d been collecting the past few weeks and bottles it up. He locks them away. Pushes them to corner of his mind and labels them ‘never touch again’ because it would be pointless. It’s over. It’s so clearly over. He never stood a chance. 

“Why are you speaking with me, then?” He asks, his tone biting and cold. 

Oikawa lets out a huff, “Because he won’t talk to me! So I figured he must be talking to you. Since he’s in love with you and everything.” He growls back, bitterness seeping through every syllable he utters. 

All the natural tension in Ushijima’s face suddenly slackens, eyebrows flying up, eyes widening, mouth falling open. And for a moment he looks like a seventeen year old boy, lost, confused, and so very _young_ that it makes Oikawa take a step back. 

(He forgets, sometimes, that Ushijima is the same age as him.)

“Iwaizumi...is in love...with _me?”_ Ushijima says it so slowly, mouth working hard to capture every syllable, unable to comprehend it at all. 

Oikawa feels himself reddening, “How can you not know? You’re dating him aren’t you?”

Ushijima stares at him, mouth unable to close, “No? I do not believe so?”

And it’s Oikawa’s turn to gape, brown eyes blown out, “Hold on, you’re _not_?”

“...No...” Ushijima continues, slowly. _Iwaizumi is in love with me?_

“But? The dinner? The cafe?” Oikawa sputters, waving his hands out in a sudden explosion of movement.

“Iwaiziumi was helping me to confess to you.” Ushijima says easily, as if its obvious. As if it’s always been that obvious. 

“Oh my God.” Oikawa whispers. He bring his hands to run through his hair, the past few weeks refocusing with sudden new clarity. 

Ushijima asking Iwaizumi to help him. 

Iwaizumi being too nice to say no. 

Iwaizumi having to deal with his incredibly obvious crush on Ushijima while helping him get with another man. 

Oikawa feels his stomach flip as the revelations hit him in waves. He sits down on the steps, body almost crumpling, “Oh my _God_.”

Ushijima steps down to stand in front of him, alert to the sudden change in Oikawa’s demeanor, “Are you alright?”

Oikawa waves him off, “I thought...I thought you and Iwa-chan were...so when you...said that to me I thought...so I...so I slapped you but...”

Ushijima takes a moment, processing the words, “You were defending Iwaizumi.” He states, more for his own understanding than anyone elses.. 

Oikawa looks up at him, eyes clouded and upset. It makes Ushijima swallow. Makes him feel a little shaky on his feet. Makes him want to reach out and hold him.

Oikawa has always made him unsteady. 

He sits down beside him. 

“So, you and Iwa-chan aren’t...”

Ushijima shakes his head. 

“But that confession was...it was real?”

Ushijima nods his head. 

“ _Fuck_.” Oikawa hisses, rubbing his face furiously with his hands. “Fuck!” He shouts a bit louder, hands crawling up to fist in his hair. 

Everything was so fucked up. 

“You _like_ me?” Oikawa repeats, again, because he can’t wrap his head around it. He just can’t. 

“I do.” Ushijima murmurs, awkwardly, hands fisting into the fabric covering his knees, unsure what to do with himself. He looks squarely at the ground, stiff, “Do you...Does this, does this change your answer?”

Oikawa looks over at him, eyes pained, lost in thought. There was so much to think of. Ushijima’s feelings. _Iwaizumi’s_ feelings. It was too much. Too much in too little time, with no way to process. He felt himself slipping under again, drowning. Lost and alone at sea, “I...”

“I understand.” Ushijima interrupts, and it feels like he’s swallowing down a stone, that crashes down his ribs and brings his heart sinking into his stomach. Gone. Broken. Ripped away. He feels his fingers dig into his knees. 

“Wait, no, let me-“ Oikawa tries again, because _he_ doesn’t even understand what he’s trying to say, so how could Ushijima know? He’s lost his footing completely. He needs to be grounded, he needs that outstretched hand to pull him back to land. He needs _Iwaizumi_ , right now, to help him work this out. To make his brain stop churning like the roughest of seas. 

But Ushijima isn’t listening, turning his head quickly to face Oikawa, eyes boring into him, bright like a lighthouse, “Can I just have one last request?”

Oikawa furrows his brows at him, unable to even respond to the sudden change in subject. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Oikawa feels his eyes grow even wider, face burning up and it’s yet another wave crashing into him. Making his head spin, making the world spin. Ushijima’s hand is on his arm, and it’s all he can focus on suddenly. An anchor. He looks up at Ushijima’s face, eyes stern and bright, face a little red but determined. And there’s fear in his eyes. Fear of rejection. 

Oikawa leans into the touch, and there’s a tiny voice in his head, small compared to the cacophony of voices shouting, that he wouldn’t necessarily _mind_ kissing Ushijima. Because he’s a handsome boy, and Oikawa’s always enjoyed kissing people, and anything could be more bearable than letting his mind keep racing. 

“Okay,” Oikawa breathes, quietly, and he closes his eyes and leans forward. 

And he stops thinking about Ushijima’s feelings. 

And he stops thinking about Iwaizumi’s feelings. 

And he stops thinking about his own feelings. 

And for the first time, he appreciates the silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Here's a gift! 
> 
> Sorry it took forever. My job is in full throttle at the moment. 
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!!!!
> 
> see u next time


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's short, graduation is too soon, and the stars are beautiful

Iwaizumi had bolted down the sidewalk after his phone call went directly to voicemail. He had ignored Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s shouts and just kept moving. Guilt swirled in his stomach, burning his lungs more than the running could ever do, powering his legs on. 

He had turned the familiar corners with precision, legs knowing where to go from years of walking this very same path beside Oikawa. He could tell he was catching up too, turning one more corner to find a whisp of Oikawa walking lazily away. 

But Iwaizumi freezes when Oikawa makes an unexpected move, slipping to the left rather than continuing straight. His feet stutter, mind racing to rework the map he had visualized in his brain. 

This is not the way home. 

_He’s going to the bus stop._

His feet stumble as his head urges them to move, tripping on the cracks in the pavement, but his momentum keeps him going. He turns left when he reaches the divide, going down the path just in time to see the bus driving away.

Iwaizumi curses. 

He wipes the sweat from his brow and collapses on the empty bus bench, ruffling his hair in aggravation. He calls Oikawa again, but the call goes straight to voicemail. 

_He’s turned his phone off._

Iwaizumi lets out a growl through his teeth, lifting his head up at the darkening sky and blinking furiously. He knows exactly where Oikawa is heading, heading completely misinformed and only going to make the situation so much worse. 

_I’m such an idiot._

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, leaning back into the bench. He feels the tension in his body leave him, hands unclenching at his sides, _I have to tell him everything._

But then Ushijima’s face dances across his closed eyelids and his stomach turns once more. 

_But what do I tell him?_

He opens his eyes as a bus creaks to a stop in front of him. 

He gets on. 

* * *

Kissing Ushijima is different than kissing Iwaizumi. It’s slow, unsure, but determined. Ushijima has not kissed many people and it’s obvious. His form is terrible. His body tense, alert and rigid. Oikawa would normally laugh, but his mouth is otherwise preoccupied.

He lifts his hand, cupping it around Ushijima’s jaw to pull him closer. Ushijima concedes, pressing more insistently against him, firm, strong, grounding. Oikawa slips his mouth open, a noise escaping his lips. Ushijima practically rumbles against him in turn. 

Oikawa gropes for Ushijima’s hand, finding it clenched at the taller teen’s side. He holds it by the wrist, bringing it around his back. Ushijima takes the hint, for once, letting his large hand spread flush against Oikawa’s lower back and pull him closer. Oikawa lets out another pleased sound, letting his arms wrap around Ushijima’s neck. 

And then Ushijima stops. 

Oikawa lets out a whine before he can think better of it, blinking his eyes open and giving a pout. But the cutesy face drops fast when he takes in Ushijima’s surprised form and wide eyes, looking intently away. Oikawa furrows his brow and cranes his neck around to follow the gaze. 

Iwaizumi is standing there, right in front of them. 

Oikawa feels a wave of cold water crash over him again, his grip on land’s edge loosening against the now slick rocks. Ushijima lets go of him completely and Oikawa feels himself falling down, down, _down_. 

“Iwaizumi.” Ushijima says. Oikawa can barely hear him over the roar of his own mind. He can feel his breath escaping him in short, quick breaths, heart pumping fast, eyes prickling up. It’s dizzying.

Iwaizumi bows immediately, folding himself over, hair hanging down and hands firmly attached to his sides, “I’m gl-glad everything worked out.” He says, but there’s an audible crack in his voice that strikes through Oikawa’s core. But he can’t speak, chest heaving, breaths fast, too fast, for any words.

Iwaizumi doesn’t wait for a response, he swivels around, still bent over to shield his face, and starts running back from whence he came. Gone.

As Iwaizumi escapes his vision, Oikawa feels his sight leave him completely. The world seems to close in on him. He grips his upper arms tightly, curling inward, sucking in breath after breath, the space between them too small for any sort of relief. 

He’s hyperventilating, eyes dizzy on the ground, heart hammering in his chest, tears poised in his eyes. He thinks of Iwaizumi’s face, how broken, how hurt, after seeing his best friend kiss the guy he so clearly likes.

Oikawa has never hated himself more. 

There are hands on his shoulders, strong and steady. He lets out a choked gasp, eyes flicking up to see Ushijima’s face close to his. Golden eyes bore into him and Oikawa finds it impossible to look away, sucked into their gaze. 

“Oikawa.” Ushijima says, voice deep and stern and steady. Oikawa takes in another breath, “What do you need me to do?”

Oikawa feels parched suddenly, throat dry and crackling, “I don’t know.” He feels his breath quickening again, “I don’t know what to do.”

Ushijima frowns deeper and releases him. Oikawa moves forward, as if searching for that comfort again, that presence, but Ushijima has straightened up completely, “Wait here.” He orders. 

Oikawa stares at him, but Ushijima says nothing more as he starts jogging down the road anyway. Oikawa swallows wetly, crumpling back onto the steps and pressing his palms into his eyes, wishing the world would leave him be for just a few moments.

_Be calm_ , he thinks to himself as he focuses on his breathing. 

_Be calm_ , he thinks as he looks up at the darkening night sky.

“Be calm,” He whispers to himself as the stars wash over him.

* * *

Iwaizumi collapses on the bus stop, bending practically in half and covering his face with his hands. Luckily no one else is at the stop. He breathes through his fingers, long and suffering, and tries to get a hold of himself. But the moment keeps replaying in his mind.

Oikawa kissing Ushijima.

Ushijima kissing Oikawa. 

His stomach swirls with nausea, and he swallows thickly, taking another breath. _Calm down,_ he thinks, _this is what was supposed to happen,_ he reminds himself. _You have no right to be upset about this._

He squeezes his eyes shut. 

He shouldn’t have run off. 

_I ruined their moment._

He presses his fists into his eyes and tries to even his breathing. Count to ten. Breathe out. Count to ten. Breathe in. And so on and so forth, until he can finally sit up. 

He almost jumps when he sees Ushijima standing above him, towering in the dark, golden eyes piercing, thick brows upturned slightly, mouth a thin line. 

“Ushi-“

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima interrupts, voice thick and slow and wavering just enough to be perceptible. In the outline of the streetlight Iwaizumi can see the man is trembling slightly, “I do not know how to apologize for what I have done.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, uncomprehending. He shakes his head, “No, no, I should be the one apologizing! I ruined your moment with Oikawa, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry.”

Ushijima looks away, “I have overstayed my welcome.” He murmurs, and Iwaizumi furrows his brows, “Please, Oikawa needs you in this moment. He’s...” Ushijima swallows, and it’s the first time Iwaizumi has seen the man fumble with anything, “I don’t,” He closes his mouth, eyes flickering up to the sky and blinking, “I am not, I am not the best at this.” He finishes.

He takes in a breath and brings his gaze down to look at Iwaizumi, “He needs you.” 

Iwaizumi feels his heart clench, and half of him wants to shrink away, doesn’t want to face Oikawa when he feels so raw and torn up inside. Too many revelations in such a short time. Too many broken hearts in his one chest. But the other half of him lurches him forward on instinct, because if Oikawa is in trouble he has to be at his side. 

“Ok,” He whispers, wiping his face, against his sleeve, “Ok.”

* * *

When they reach Ushijima’s home once more, the steps are empty. Ushijima opens his front door, peering into his dark home. No one is there. He comes back out, and for the first time his face is drawn up in unabashed worry, eyes squinting, mouth parted and hands squeezing into fists as he starts looking around, “I...I told him to wait here.” He mutters.

The quiet walk back had been calming, had eased Iwaizumi’s raucous mind and settled his rocking gut. Seeing Ushijima so worried had made him center in order to be a stabilizing force. So when Ushijima says this, Iwaizumi can’t help but smile despite everything. 

A light ghost of a laugh passes through his lips.“When has Oikawa _ever_ listened to anybody?” 

Ushijima doesn’t look amused, continuing to look around, “You do not understand. He’s...He needs...”

Iwaizumi smiles again, red rimmed eyes crinkling a little, and he pats Ushijima’s arm, “Hey, listen, stop.” He murmurs, feeling Ushijima still beneath his touch, “A lot’s happened. We’re all freaking out. And I know Oikawa can look like a mess sometimes, enough to freak you out like this. But let me tell you, he really is the strongest person I know.”

Ushijima looks over at him.

Iwaizumi doesn’t keep the gaze,“We all, we all just need to...to calm down.” He decides, squeezing Ushijima’s arm, “Could you make us some tea?”

Ushijima stares at him, “What about Oikawa?” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes flick upwards, a soft smile passing over his face, “I think I know where he is.” 

Ushijima waits for more. For anything.

Iwaizumi lets his hand drop, eyes looking past Ushijima to tilt up at the night sky, “The stars are pretty bright in your neighborhood.” He comments, looking at the glittering specks, “A lot brighter than on my street.”

“We do not have many streetlights here.” Ushijima explains, hand coming over to ghost around the spot Iwaizumi had warmed on his arm. His eyebrows draw together, unable to put the things Iwaizumi is saying in logical order. For his part, Iwaizumi doesn’t do anything to help with that. 

Instead he hums, “Come find me when the tea is ready.” And Ushijima says nothing as Iwaizumi walks away, into Ushijima’s lawn and around his home to the backyard. 

* * *

After he had calmed himself on the steps of the Ushijima home, Oikawa wanted to leave. To run away. But that wasn’t fair to anyone. But Oikawa is never one to sit around and he finds himself pacing, pacing and thinking.

_I need to tell him_ , he thinks to himself.

_I need to tell him everything_ , he decides, glancing upwards. 

His feet carry him through the grass, to Ushijima’s spacious backyard. He sits down in the grass, pulling at the blades idly as he chews his bottom lip. Behind him feeds into a great mountain, and before him is Ushijima’s traditional home. It’s nice, being surrounded like this, knowing he can’t roll off the edge of the world so easily. That there are things in this world that keep him anchored and safe. He lets out another breath and lays down, eyes taking in the full expanse of the sky, and starts counting out the familiar constellations coming into view.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything when he sees Iwaizumi’s worn out sneakers in his peripheral, through the blades of grass. He doesn’t react at all. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything either, shuffling away and settling himself down on the grass. He’s angled himself so their heads line up next to each other, but their legs go off in opposite directions. He clasps his hands together on his chest and looks up at the sky. 

The wind ruffles through their hair, some of Oikawa’s brown locks tickling at Iwaizumi’s chin. A cicada buzzes a few meters away. Something whistles through the wind. 

And then, almost at the same time, they both say, “I’m sorry.”

Iwaizumi is faster,“I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. Mastun and Makki told me what happened, that you were defending me and all that.” He swallows, keeping his gaze on the stars, “I’m sorry I ruined your moment just now too. I really am happy for you. For the both of you.”

“Iwa-chan, stop apologizing.” Oikawa whispers, and his voice is too hoarse to have an annoying lilt about it, “It makes you sound like a decent person.”

Iwaizumi snorts. 

Oikawa smiles, but his mouth trembles under the weight of it, and he feels his eyes glisten, “You don’t have to be happy for me. That kiss wasn’t...Isn’t...Don’t assume so much.”

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, “He really does like you.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa says, fingers pulling at the grass beside him. 

“Do you like him?” Iwaizumi probes.

“He’s not all bad.” Oikawa allows. 

“Then I’m happy for you.” Iwaizumi repeats, firmly. 

“It’s not so simple, Hajime.” Oikawa sighs, turning his head to face Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi mirrors him in lieu of a response, “Because I love you too.”

Iwaizumi blinks, mouth parting, right at Oikawa’s eye level. Oikawa suddenly feels a bit sick to his stomach, with the secret now out in the open and he finds himself turning away curling up a bit. Like rolling into a ball could protect him.

But Iwaizumi has sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide and questioning, “Tooru?”

Oikawa’s smile cracks his face like a shattered mirror, “Don’t worry I know,” Oikawa pushes through, eyes blinking rapidly, “That you like Ushiwaka.”

Iwaizumi’s grip on Oikawa tightens, forcing brown eyes to flick to where they’re connected. But then Iwaizumi lets out a choked breath, “Don’t assume so much.” Oikawa looks back at his face. There’s relief swirling in his green eyes, despite the pained expression, “I do, I do like him.” He agrees, and Oikawa wants to die a little. Maybe he does, as he tries to pull away. 

But Iwaizumi’s grip is vice like, and he leans in closer, “But I love you too.” 

Oikawa feels the world open up below him, like he’ll fall for leagues and leagues, but Iwaizumi holds him up with his grip on his shoulder, and he’s never felt any safer. He stares at him, “Really?”

“Really.” Iwaizumi murmurs, as his grip lessens to more of a soothing touch, eyes soft. 

“You love me.” Oikawa whispers, reverentially, and his words travel up into the stars. 

“And you love me.” Iwaizumi replies, voice airy, “But.”

“But.” Oikawa repeats, “That damn Ushiwaka-chan.”

Iwaizumi smiles.

Oikawa looks back up at the stars, bright and ever present. He follows the constellations he’s tracked for years, maybe searching for guidance. He lets the confessions stew a moment in the night air, hang pregnant above them. Iwaizumi readjusts himself as he lies back down, resting firmly beside his best friend, they’re arms pressed against each other, hands twitching to intertwine. 

Finally, Oikawa speaks again, “This is such a fucking mess.”

There’s a beat of silence before Iwaizumi explodes in laughter, the noise erupting from his mouth as he curls up in the aftershock, form shaking as the laughs escape him. Oikawa looks over at him, grin growing on his own face as he too feels giggles bubbling in his chest. They break out from him soon enough, consuming him and he finds himself rocking into Iwaizumi, the pair turning to each other. 

They laugh over the years of missed chances. Laugh over the weeks of miscommunications. Laugh over the days of broken hearts. They laugh and laugh and _laugh_.

They laugh until it hurts, gasping for breath, stomachs pained and crumpled from the effort. As they try to regain their breathing, giggles still clinging to each breath, they find themselves clutching at each other, eyes entranced with one another.

“If you sleep out here the sprinklers will soak you.” Comes a deep voice above them, startling in the darkness. 

Their eyes dart over to find Ushijima, standing above them, framed by the starry sky. 

And the absurdity of the statement, in light of everything, sends Oikawa and Iwaizumi right back into another fit of laughter. 

“Since when,” Oikawa says between his giggles, “Did Ushiwaka-chan become a master comedian?”

Ushijima blinks at this, “I am sorry?”

Iwaizumi barks out another laugh in reply, and Oikawa, through his giggles, reaches up to grab Ushijima’s hand. He tugs him, and Ushijima, confused, merely stares at him. Iwaizumi takes the hint, reaching up to grab Ushijima’s other arm, and together Iwaizumi and Oikawa manage to bring the giant down to their level. Ushijima catches himself as he comes down, so he doesn’t crush the two. One hand beside each face, caging them in. 

“I don’t understand what is happening.” He says, eyebrows furrowed deeply, gaze flickering between the pair beneath him.

“Iwa-chan, do you think our dear Ushijima is ticklish?” Oikawa asks, peering over at Iwaizumi with a devilish expression. 

“That’s a great question, Oikawa. I’ve never even heard him laugh.” Iwaizumi supplies, running some fingers up one of the arms Ushijima is bracing himself with. Ushijima tenses beneath the touch, looking squarely at Iwaizumi, trying to comprehend the ghostly touches. 

It gives Oikawa the opening to pounce, knocking Ushijima over so he’s sprawled out on his back in the grass. Oikawa is on him in seconds, hands running up his sides with a childlike sort of glee. 

Ushijima squirms, arms coming up to stop the other teen. Or they would have, if Iwaizumi didn’t have a strong grip on them suddenly. His smile is almost apologetic, fingers squeezing Ushijima’s wrists together. But Ushijima has little time to focus on that as fingers ghost right beneath his ribs and a breathy gasp is torn from his lips. 

“Oh?” Oikawa sounds, teeth sparkling as they peek out from his lips, “Does the champion have a weak spot?” 

“I do not understand what is happening.” Ushijima repeats, again, and his tone verges on angry. Enough for Iwaizumi to loosen his grip, enabling the ace to free himself from his hold. Ushijima sits up, Oikawa slipping off him and to the side at the same time. “I thought. You both.” Ushijima lets out a disgruntled breath through his nose, crossing his arms, “Why are you happy?”

“Life’s short.” Oikawa shrugs picking at some blades of glass, his voice tired but lacking sadness.

“Graduation is too soon.” Iwaizumi supplies as he crawls over to sit beside Oikawa, shoulders brushing. 

“The stars are beautiful.” Oikawa adds, leaning on Iwaizumi and tilting his head back to stare at the vast expanse of the sky.

“Neither of you are answering my question.” Ushijima practically growls, eyebrows furrowing, “Both of you...you were both crying. I don’t… Are you both? Am I? I do not understand.”

Iwaizumi gets up without answering, brushing off flecks of grass from his pants. His school shirt has a grass stain but he’ll have to deal with it later. He offers a hand down to Oikawa who takes it, hauling himself up. They both turn to Ushijima, offering a hand for each of his. 

Ushijima stares at them, utterly dumbfounded. 

“Let’s talk over tea.” Iwaizumi offers, “We have a lot to figure out.”

Ushijima finally nods with the addendum, the promise of information and clarity and relief for his worry riddled mind. He takes their hands, despite not needing their aid to get up.

“And can we order some food?” Oikawa groans, striding up to the house in front of them, “I’m _starving_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!!!! 
> 
> November was really bad for me mental health-wise and my job amped up too so I didn't really have any motivation or time to write. But i do love this fic and will finish it so dont worry!
> 
> your comments really keep me going so thank you!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter
> 
> see you next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together they are a hurricane, land drawing the sea, and the sea drawing to the land in a constant swirl.  
> Together they urge Ushijima to think beyond simple plays, reconsider obvious solutions.  
> Together they pull at every part of him, picking away at his defenses.

Ushijima puts the kettle down on the tray, accompanied by three ceramic tea cups. His hands tremble slightly and he takes a deep breath, pushing it out through pursed lips.

He does this three times, counting as he does so.

He opens his eyes and peers around the corner to where Oikawa and Iwaizumi are sitting. They’re sitting side by side, immersed in deep conversation, nodding emphatically at each other, using their hands to express their points. And _laughing_.

Ushijima rubs his temples with his hands because he is so _utterly_ confused.

Because he loves that their both so happy, all giggles and smiles, it fills him with an intense warmth just at the sight. He’s not sure why the feeling is so powerful, his friendship with both boys still so fledgling and so fragile. Other things are more pressing then dissecting that. He can’t comprehend how the both of them could have such a dramatic mood shift in so little time.

He feels left behind.

Because he is most certainly not happy at the moment.

He squeezes the handles on the tray, thumb rubbing idly against the smooth metal, preparing himself to enter, to bulldoze right through and make his presence know. To be included.

Before he can, however, he hears Oikawa call out to him, “Ushiwaka-chan! I prefer my tea _somewhat_ warm, so if you can hurry it up please!”

Ushijima hears an audible thump and a high pitched whine, followed by a friendly, “Don’t mind him, he’s a brat!”

Ushijima’s grip on his tray feels more precarious, his hands sweaty on the handles. He takes another breath and steels his face.

He enters into the room, silently placing the tray onto the low table, before sitting down on the cushion across from his two guests. He picks up the kettle, pouring hot water into each cup, nudging it in the direction of its new owner. He then offers up his neatly organized collection of tea bags, unsure what the other teens would prefer.

He grabs his favorite, slipping it into his cup.

Oikawa digs through the packets with a focused, pursed lip. His pink tongue peaks out from the corner and it’s kind of cute, Ushijima thinks. He also thinks about how it tasted, in his own mouth, barely an hour ago. He swallows, eyes looking down at his darkening cup.

Oikawa snatches out a citrus flavor for himself and offers Iwaizumi something a bit more bitter. Iwaizumi takes it without a second glance, an air of familiarity and nonchalance surrounding the exchange. Ushijima can’t help watching the interaction from the corner rim of his glass, and his chest stings. His heart squeezes tight, compacting painfully within his chest.

“What places deliver near here?” Oikawa asks, dipping his packet into the hot water. He doesn’t let the bag simply sink, fidgety hands constantly moving it around his drink. Ushijima finds it incredibly inefficient and impractical.

“My mother should be home soon.” Ushijima responds instead.

Iwaizumi waves his hand, “Oh, we don’t want to be a bother.”

Ushijima raises his palm up, “I have already informed her. She is excited.”

“Don’t normally have friends over huh?” Oikawa teases with a raised brow, grinning around his cup.

“No.” Ushijima agrees, seriously, and it makes the taste in Oikawa’s mouth bitter. He sips his tea, swallowing down the elbow to the ribs Iwaizumi swiftly delivers. He cringes, and tries to play it off as the liquid burning his tongue, and not the jab at his side.

“Thanks for having us.” Iwaizumi says, nodding his head a little awkwardly as he does.

Ushijima stares at him. Stares at the both of them. And he feels the grip on his cup tightening until he’s clenching it in his hands and he has to breathe again to _let go_. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are looking at him, their shoulders practically touching, their hands practically touching, all of them practically touching until it’s hard for Ushijima to separate the two melting people. And it looks so natural, so easy, and it makes him want to smile slightly, but it also makes him want to scream. He’s never felt so many emotions in his life, never mind all at once.

He neither smiles nor screams. Instead, he lets nothing flit across his face.

 _Let go_.

“You do not have to stay for dinner if you are uncomfortable. Please know I am happy for the both of you.” He murmurs, “I was wrong to ever interfere. I wish you many years of good fortune together.”

Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi flame up at the statement, faces hot, eyebrows high. It’s endearing. They share a glance, and Ushijima is happy he’s settled everything. Now he can move on, to greener pastures, to more potable soil.

It kills him.

“That’s not-,” Oikawa starts, suddenly, bringing Ushijima back to the field at hand.

“That’s not entirely true.” Iwaizumi finishes, scratching the back of his neck. Neither of them are looking at each other now, or at Ushijima. Oikawa is fiddling with the end of the rug he’s perched on, Iwaizumi is busy studying the wall.

Ushijima furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated.” Oikawa supplies, fingers digging into the rug.

“We don’t really get it either.” Iwaizumi continues, getting redder and redder. His eyes climb higher as he starts focusing on the ceiling, as if this new angle will make his face return to a less embarrassing color. 

Ushijima is lost again. He tries to search Iwaizumi’s eyes for some sort of understanding, those clear windows never good at hiding anything. But Iwaizumi’s eyes remain locked above, hard to decipher. When he glances back toward Oikawa, he finds him looking at him, but his dark eyes reveal nothing to the taller teen.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa starts, brown gaze piercing, “If you had to choose between me and Iwaizumi, who would you choose?”

Ushijima stares right back at him, “It would depend.”

Iwaizumi snorts, and his eyes return to the exchange at hand.

“If I wanted a companion to go hiking in the mountains with, I would choose Iwaizumi.” Ushijima continues, “If I wanted help buying a suit for my cousin’s wedding I would choose Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi laughs again, louder, “Those are really specific instances.”

Oikawa doesn’t get bogged down in the details, “Then, who would you choose to give a kiss?”

Ushijima doesn’t respond immediately, not because he is embarrassed, but because he is thinking. Because at first the answer seems obvious. It has always been about Oikawa, was always supposed to be about Oikawa, so the setter’s name rests on the edge of his lips. But then his eyes catch Iwaizumi, trustworthy Iwaizumi, with his calming gaze, and gruff voice. Iwaizumi who has been there for him like no one else has. And then it is his name ready to burst from his chest.

But then Oikawa flits across his gaze once more. Brilliant Oikawa, daring Oikawa, with the fire in his eyes, and the drive to go farther. Oikawa who has always pushed him to be better, who has always challenged him to think bigger.

And back and forth and back and forth until Ushijima feels absolutely dizzy from it all.

“I do not...I do not know.” He answers honestly. And it feels like giving up, which is something he’s never really done in all of his life. Because he’s always tried and given his all and usually pushed his way through. But this seems insurmountable, not so much like a tall mountain begging to be climbed, but like cupping water in his hands. Because if he grips too hard, it’s inevitable that most of it will slip through the cracks of his fingers.

But neither Oikawa nor Iwaizumi seem surprised by the answer. In fact, Oikawa’s face is smug, and Iwaizumi’s is flecked with a sincere understanding. It winds him. Knocks him down a peg just as the pair are want to do. Because Oikawa is confusing and challenging, and Iwaizumi is faithful and grounding.

But together they are something else entirely.

Together they are seamless, interwoven by a bond unchallenged by time.

Together they are a hurricane, land drawing the sea, and the sea drawing to the land in a constant swirl.

Together they urge Ushijima to think beyond simple plays, reconsider obvious solutions.

Together they pull at every part of him, picking away at his defenses.

Together.

“Both.” Ushijima says, the word slipping out as he’s caught in their clutches, in their mixed gaze. He’s embarrassed by the word, feels his face heat up, if only a little. It makes him sound greedy, but Ushijima knows he’s always hungered for more, whether it be on the court or in life, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

“You just have to have _everything_ don’t you?” Oikawa comments, but his tone is not biting, rather it lilts in such a playful way, tone dancing with his darkened brown gaze. It’s enough to have Ushijima shiver, and Iwaizumi flame up beside him.

“You’re one to talk,” Iwaizumi interrupts, trying to reclaim some dignity, “ _You’ve_ never been one to share.”

Oikawa laughs into his hand, a grin tearing up his carefully crafted smug expression, “Iwa-chan, you’re ruining the moment.”

“And you’re making it gross.” Iwaizumi supplies with a huff, “Stop acting like we know more than him.”

Ushijima blinks.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, head tilting dramatically, “You’ve ruined our upper hand! Don’t you know anything about strategy?”

“I know enough to know we should all be on an even playing field if we want this to work.” Iwaizumi points out.

Oikawa purses his lips, but he doesn’t protest, brown eyes glancing back at Ushijima. Iwaizumi follows the gaze as well, offering an apologetic smile.

And Iwaizumi does what he does best; he tells the blunt, frank and honest truth,“It’s an absolute mess, Ushijima,” he sighs, “We’re all in love with each other.”

Ushijima blinks again, eyebrows furrowing deep crevices in his forehead, “I’m sorry?”

But before anyone can respond, a fourth voice calls through the house, “Waka-chan! I’m home!” 

Ushijima responds automatically, “Welcome home!”

“Waka-chan?” Oikawa repeats, absolutely _delighted_.

Ushijima narrows his eyes at him, but there is little he can do as his mother walks into the room, clasping her hands together, “Dinner won’t take long to make. Oh, and these must be your friends!”

Oikawa is quick to his feet, bowing deeply, “Good evening Ushijima-san, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh my, aren’t you sweet?” The woman replies with a smile, “It’s Oikawa Tooru, right?”

Oikawa’s smile doesn’t falter, “The one and only. You’ve heard of me?”

“Oh, Wakatoshi speaks of you all the time! I’m so happy to have you.” She continues without missing a beat, although she doesn’t catch Oikawa’s widening eyes. She cranes her head to look past him, “And you must be Iwaizumi Hajime?”

Iwaizumi blinks rapidly, awkwardly nodding his head, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ushijima’s mother beams, “Oh you both must be hungry! I’ll work on dinner now. Wakatoshi set the table, dear.” She adds, before slipping back out of the room.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa stare at Ushijima as he rises up to his full height to follow his mother obediently. He meets their gazes easily, “Is there something wrong?”

“How does she know who we are?” Iwaizumi blurts out.

“I tell my mother everything.” Ushijima shrugs, but he pauses a moment before stepping through the threshold, “Forgive me that is inaccurate. I have not told her _everything_.”

* * *

**> Senior Citizens<**

**> Hanamaki Takahiro: **ok wtf you guys

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **matsun and I have been calling/texting both of you nonstop and you won’t answer

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **maybe the aliens finally got them

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **or maybe our friends have finally combusted from their dumbass levels reaching an all time high

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **thats more likely

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **hey oikawa

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **iwaizumi

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **if you guys don’t answer

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **im gonna call the cops

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **or worse

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **worse?

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **bring in the big guns

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **call ushiwaka

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro:** the shitlord of shiratorizawa himself

* * *

“We can’t, really,” Iwaizumi insists after dinner, once the dishes have been washed and the table cleared.

“We have school in the morning and we didn’t bring anything,” Oikawa continues.

Ushijima’s mother is having none of it, and it becomes increasingly clear to the Seijoh seniors where Ushijima gets his stubborn, fierce nature, “Oh it’s not a problem at all! I can wash the uniforms you’re wearing. You can borrow Waka-chan’s pajamas for the night.”

“Kaa-san, they can go home if they wish too,” Ushijima tries, frowning at his mother.

She tuts at him, “It’s much too late for them to make the trek back home! The bus is terribly unreliable at this hour. I am positive your parents would agree, so give them a call and let them know you’re staying the night.”

And so Iwaizumi and Oikawa find themselves ushered into Ushijima’s large bedroom with little choice in the matter. “Waka-chan, go prepare the bath for your friends,” Ushijima’s mother instructs. Ushijima obediently complies without a word. She turns to her guests, motioning to the large closet, “The guest futon is in there, Waka-chan will give you some clothes to change into. If you need anything just let me know. And don’t stay up too late,” she smiles.

The pair nod and she’s gone.

The pair look at each other.

“She’s probably like ‘I can’t believe my weird son finally brought two whole friends home.’” Oikawa snickers into his hand.

Iwaizumi shoves his shoulder, but not hard enough to budge him, “Stop being an ass.”

“I’ve been on my best behavior,” Oikawa insists, sticking his nose up. Iwaizumi ignores him, turning to the closet to dig out the futon, “What will she think when she realizes what she’s done?”

“What?”

“Forced three teenage boys who all have the hots for each other into a bedroom.”

Iwaizumi hits him with the rolled up futon, shoving it at the squawking boy, “You’re fucking gross.”

“Iwa-chan! That hurts!” Oikawa whines, grabbling with the futon.

“Good.” Iwaizumi snaps, “Now stop being nasty and help me set this up.”

Oikawa grumbles to himself but does as he’s told. It’s a large futon, which is good, since there’s only one for the both of them. Though, they’ve slept in smaller spaces together before, so it’s all par for the course. Iwaizumi doesn’t remember the last time they bothered digging up a guest futon in either of their houses. He’s spent as much time sleeping in Oikawa’s bed as he has in his own.

Ushijima steps into the room as they spread out the futon on the floor, “The bath is ready, who would like to go first?”

Oikawa jumps up, “Me!” He grabs the towel in Ushijima’s arm, “Oh, Iwa-chan, I guess this means you have to call Auntie about sleeping over here! Have fun!” and he dashes out the room.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“Is this alright?” Ushijima asks.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for letting us stay over.”

“It is not a problem. My mother is very excited.”

“She seems great.”

“I love my mother very much.” Ushijima nods. Iwaizumi can’t help the smile that cracks his face. Ushijima feels his hands clench at his sides. He turns away to dig through his closet, “I forgot to give Oikawa a change of clothes.” He mutters.

Iwaizumi waves his hand, “No worries. He’ll just come over here and whine about it.” He lies down on the futon, stretching out on his stomach.

Ushijima hesitates, after assembling two changes of clothes for his guests, just a simple T-shirt and shorts, “Iwaizumi, about...about what we were talking about before. I’m still-”

“Let’s wait til we’re all together again, to talk about it.” Iwaizumi interrupts, “It’ll be easier that way.”

Ushijima nods, albeit a bit disappointedly. He sits down on his bed, wondering what he should do with himself.

Iwaizumi has picked up his phone, most likely to call home but he stops mid swipe, “Fuck.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Our friends are freaking out.” Iwaizumi sighs tiredly, “Ug, i don’t want to deal with this right now. If some unknown number texts you ignore it, ok?”

* * *

**> Senior Citizens<**

**> Iwaizumi Hajime: **hey we’re fine

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **you can stop spamming our phones now

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **HE LIVES

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **how’d things go with oikawa?

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **or did you kill him and thats why he isn’t responding

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **he’s fine his phone is off

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **sounds like something a murderer would say

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **plus he’s the one who should kill me

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime:** since i treated him like dirt over a misunderstanding where he was actually looking out for me

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime:** the jerks too sweet for his own good sometimes

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime:** don’t tell him I said that

 **> Matsukawa Issei: **damn someones emotional tonight

 **> Hanamaki Takahiro: **also buddy, heads up but you’re in the group chat so oikawa’s def gonna see that

 **> Iwaizumi Hajime: **fuck

* * *

By the time Ushijima showers last, parents have been informed, school uniforms have been put in the wash and everyone has settled into the room in their sleepwear for the night.

“Oikawa, you look hilarious,” Iwaizumi snorts, “You’re swimming in that shirt.”

“Shut up Iwa-chan, I can make any outfit work,” Oikawa snaps back. Ushijima’s shirt is huge on him, around the shoulders, but he rectifies this by angling it for an ‘off the shoulder look’. Iwaizumi refuses to say it looks good (even though it does) so Oikawa decides to fight fire with fire, “At least it’s not a dress on me.”

“Fuck off,” Iwaizumi huffs, crossing his arms. So what if the shirt ends somewhere at his mid thigh, at least it fits him everywhere else, “It’s not my fault you both are abnormally tall.”

“You’re so cute Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purrs, “Are you even wearing shorts under there?”

“I’m going to suffocate you while you sleep.”

“I think you both look handsome in my clothes.” Ushijima interrupts from his perch in the middle of his bed.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi both stare at him, “Oh my god.” Oikawa says while Iwaizumi looks a bit flushed, “I can’t believe you just said that.” He starts to laugh, “How can you just say those things?”

“I am just being truthful?” Ushijima replies.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, I never thought I’d find your bluntness at all endearing,” Oikawa sighs as his laughs quiet down, “Yet here I am.”

Ushijima squeezes his fingers into his palms, “Can we, can we continue discussing what we were speaking about earlier.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa smiles, and it’s soft, angled to the floor, and it’s something Ushijima has never seen before. At least not directed toward him. He swallows.

Iwaizumi sits on Ushijima’s bed and Oikawa follows to do the same, so they find themselves in a somewhat triangular formation on the sheets. Ushijima sits cross legged in front of them, patient and still.

“So, basically, what Oikawa and I just realized a few hours ago is that, we both have a, uh, crush--“

“Iwa-chan and I are in love with each other,” Oikawa interrupts, ignoring the look Iwaizumi shoots him, “But, we also, are both, kinda, in love with you too.”

“But, that...that doesn’t...” Ushijima frowns.

“Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.” Oikawa murmurs, “I’ve never liked playing by other people’s rules anyway.”

“This is hard for me too,” Iwaizumi says sympathetically, “It’s different, and it’s kinda weird but, that’s kind of par for the course when you’re friends with Oikawa. It takes some time to get used to.”

“But how would this, I don’t understand how it would, I have never...”

“Don’t fry your brain trying to wrap your head around this.” Iwaizumi butts in.

“You said it earlier, you would want to kiss us both, right?” Oikawa reminds.

“I did say that.” Ushijima says.

“Look, we don’t have to figure this all out right now,” Iwaizumi says, “We’ll take it slow. Figure out some ground rules. How we want this to look like. Work it all out together.”

“Together?”

“All three of us.”

“All three of us.” Ushijima repeats, and there’s something sacred about the string of words. Something beautiful and wonderful and filling that he can’t help holding them close. It warms his chest, makes his fingers squeeze his crossed ankles, makes him a silly kind of happy deep within.

“Great.” Oikawa yawns, “Now, I need my beauty sleep so I think it’s time for bed, boys,” He’s about to slip off the bed entirely with his announcement when he thinks better of it, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Ushijima’s cheek and then to Iwaizumi’s.

Ushijima touches his face, blinking.

“Now me!” Oikawa insists, closing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks a little.

Ushijima and Iwaizumi share a glance, before both leaning forward to give Oikawa a kiss on either cheek. Oikawa absolutely grins at the treatment, “Lovin’ it already.”

Iwaizumi swats him off the bed, standing up himself. Oikawa tuts from below, “Hey, we’re making this up as we go, but I think this means you both need to kiss each other goodnight too.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and Ushijima thinks it might be to cover up the red dusting his cheeks. Regardless, Iwaizumi leans down to press his own kiss to Ushijima’s cheek, “Goodnight.”

Ushijima touches that cheek now. Iwaizumi looks at him expectantly, but then seems to doubt himself, so Ushijima leans up to kiss him as well, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Oikawa calls from the futon.

Iwaizumi disappears from Ushijima’s view, slipping into the futon on the ground. Ushijima turns off his light and they are plunged into darkness. Ushijima lies down, eyes focused on the ceiling, face warm, but not unpleasantly so.

He can hear the pair mumbling to each other, can hear them move about the futon in a grumbling argument and Ushijima feels restless, caught between the empty spaces in his bed.

It does not take long for him to speak up again, “Oikawa, Iwaizumi.”

There’s a hum from the ground, an acknowledgement.

“Would it be alright if I joined you both on the futon?”

“Get your butt down here.” Oikawa replies unceremoniously.

Ushijima complies without any hesitation, sandwiching himself between the two with as little ceremony as Oikawa’s words. It’s a tight fit, but Ushijima doesn’t mind having Oikawa pressed against his left and Iwaizumi to his right. And the pair don’t voice any misgivings for the arrangement. If anything the shift a bit closer.

Oikawa even brings his leg up and across Ushijima’s frame. Iwaizumi lifts his head, “Oikawa, I swear to got get your ice feet off of me.”

“You can’t use Ushiwaka-chan as a shield from them Iwa-chan. It’s tradition you suffer their touch.”

“Ushiwaka, kick him off the futon. My legs aren’t long enough.” Iwaizumi orders.

Oikawa cackles, “Not all of us can be blessed with such long beautiful legs,” Ushijima can feel Oikawa wiggle them as he talks.

There are two more arguments, that follow, each causing the pair of boys to snuggle closer and closer to Ushijima, legs and arms wrapping around him as if he is the prize to be won from this fight. Ushijima finds it more amusing than anything else. He feels a quiet rumble of laughter ready to burst from his chest, but everyone has quieted down by then he doesn’t want to disturb them. So he swallows it down, letting a silent smile slip onto his face instead.

And he’s falls asleep soon after.

Together.

All three of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so so sorry for the long ass wait. lifes been rough but here you go! 
> 
> chapter 10 will be more of an epilogue kinda situation. 
> 
> thanks for reading so far guys! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> i'll see you soon
> 
> (oh also, check out my podcast on itunes 'Animate the World')


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